Interrupted Journeys 8: Through Shadow and Flame
by ellisk
Summary: As we look back on the journey of our life, certain moments stand out as ones that defined the course of that journey. These are the incidents that defined the lives of Thranduil Oropherion and Legolas Thranduilion throughout the Third and Fourth Ages. Part Eight: Durin's Bane was, in fact, the bane of many.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** This is a continuation of a series of stories titled Interrupted Journeys. Parts One through Seven have already been posted. It should not be necessary to read those parts of the series to understand this story, though you might understand the characters a bit better if you did.

This part of the story is set in Legolas's childhood. It explores the canon events in 1980-1981 TA from the point of view of the Woodland Realm. (It is rated PG-13 for battle violence and OC death.)

._.when the terror came out of Moria and the Dwarves were driven out, in their stead Orcs crept in_... Unfinished Tales

**Chapter One: The terror of Moria**

Deep in the shadow of the mountain, Dolgailon crouched low amongst a tangle of black roots and branches. They twisted around him like devouring snakes, providing the only cover that he and Colloth had against the eyes of the Enemy. It was a poor cover indeed. Placing the palm of his hand against one of the branches, trying to touch its slimy surface as little a possible, he peered at the rocks that rose above him only a few hundred paces away. Dol Guldur. Orcs swarmed around it like flies about a corpse, feeding off the dark mist that hung in the air, stagnant and putrid with decay. This was the first time that anyone had ventured so close to Dol Guldur in hundreds of years. Anyone who had returned to tell the tale, at any rate.

An orc ambled within a sword's swing of Dolgailon, its guttural breaths echoing around them.

Acutely aware that he had not yet returned to tell the tale of what he had found himself, Dolgailon flattened himself against the grimy rocks and remained stock still. Enduring the proximity of his face to the filthy ground was certainly preferable to capture, but it was revolting just the same.

The orc's panting breaths quickened. Something had aroused it. The scent of elves?

Dolgailon slowly closed his hand around the hilt of his sword. If the orc had seen or smelled them, he and Colloth were dead. There were too many orcs in the vicinity to entertain any reasonable hope of escape should an alarm be raised. But he would make certain there were many fewer orcs before he died himself.

The orc stopped, just a few paces away, but Dolgailon did not dare risk moving to turn and look at it. A moment later, he heard a trickling sound and a salty stench arose around them.

Dolgailon clenched his jaw in an effort to not gag and lifted his face a few inches from the ground despite the danger of being seen.

A few moments later, the orc released a growling, satisfied sigh as the trickling sound stopped. Leather and metal slapped together as he gave himself a little shake, then his heavy footfalls resumed, carrying him further away from the mountain.

"Enough," whispered a voice in Dolgailon's ear. It was accompanied by a tug on his tunic. Colloth moved off northward through the knots of branches.

Dolgailon took one last, long look at the mountain, pausing to sense anything he might. Then he followed, slipping through the meager cover on his hands and knees, silent as a shadow. Every time his hand fell into one of the dark little puddles of stench that pooled here and there amongst the rocks, he could not restrain himself from jerking away sharply.

He and Colloth traveled as swiftly as they dared, ever alert for orcs, or worse things, until hours later they came back to a small crypt formed by a broad, dead tree trunk and several large stones that jutted high into the air. The stones had holes drilled into them, as if a door had once hung on them and sealed the little room, but that door had long ago rotted away. Dolgailon and his companions on this expedition had called it a crypt when they found it because, in its hollow, they had found the bones of several creatures, along with remnants of orc armor and the sorts of buttons and buckles that would be used on elven clothing. It was a good hiding place, offering both shelter and security, so they camped in it, agreeing not to think too much about the fates of its former occupants.

As they approached the crypt, Dolgailon spotted his regular guard, Galudiron, peering from behind the rocks. Ostensibly, he had the watch, but Dolgailon knew that Galudiron would be watching for him whether or not it was his current duty to guard their encampment. The argument over who would provide Dolgailon's escort to Dol Guldur had been heated. In the end, Colloth had won, since he had been the guard to accompany Aradunnon to that dread place several time before and had been one of the few to enter its passages since it fell under the Shadow.

Colloth exchanged a nod with Galudiron as he and Dolgailon entered the crypt. Everyone inside looked at Dolgailon intently. Galudiron studied him for signs of injury. Morillion and Ostarndor waited anxiously to hear what Dolgailon had seen.

"Even around the mountain I saw many fewer orcs than I would have expected," Dolgailon whispered. This far into the Enemy's undisputed territory, not even the Elvenking's Troop Commander dared to speak in a clear voice.

"They are still there in great numbers, to be certain," Colloth added, "but not as many as the last time we attacked the fortress in the mountain."

That caused Morillion and Ostarndor to raise their eyebrows and look at Dolgailon expectantly.

Dolgailon shook his head swiftly. "I do not intend to attack it," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. He would not attempt that, for no other reason than, if he proposed such a plan to the king, he would likely find himself locked up in a little cell like this one under the stronghold after being condemned for dangerous insanity.

"Then why take the risk of approaching it?" Ostarndor demanded. He had been the captain of the Southern Patrol since Dolgailon was relieved of that duty. He had been an officer of that patrol since the first battle against the evil in Dol Guldur. His bitter disappointment was unmistakable.

"I wanted to know if I would still sense the same presence there that we always have sensed there, and I did," Dolgailon answered. Everyone knew what the presence was-the intense evil that drew the orcs and spiders and fed them. "I wanted to see if I would find any of the Nazgul about there, since it has been so long since they have appeared anywhere else in the forest," he added. Then he shook his head to indicate he had not.

Both Ostarndor and Morillion frowned.

"While you were gone, another large contingent of orcs passed, heading west to the border," Morillion commented. This far south, Morillion's troops, the warriors in the Western Patrol, would not encounter those orcs. But it was Morillion that first reported the orcs' travels westward out of the forest. The reason for their movements was the mystery he most wanted to solve. After all, anything that amassed on the western border might eventually be his problem.

"How long ago?" Dolgailon asked.

"An hour, maybe less," Morillion replied.

Dolgailon reached for his small pack. "We will follow them. We are finished here and now I want to see what the orcs are doing in the west."

Morillion and Ostarndor seemed very satisfied with that order. Colloth and Galudiron were much less so.

"Those orcs are leaving the forest, commander," Galudiron said, catching Dolgailon's arm as he moved to leave the crypt. "Good riddance. Outside the forest they are not our problem."

"We do not know that until we see what they are doing outside the forest. This is all very bizarre behavior, Galudiron. I want to understand it so that I am certain our borders are properly defended."

"How far onto the plain do you intend to follow them?" Colloth asked.

"As far as I must to find out what they are doing there or where they are going," Dolgailon responded. And he strode out of the crypt.

* * *

Thranduil nodded a greeting to the two guards standing on either side of the Gates. Presently, they were standing straight as an arrow, due to the presence of their King. Only a moment earlier, before they noticed the King, they were standing at the very edge of the landing that led up to the bridge, barely at their posts, and they were completely focused on the training field beyond the Green, which was not where their attention belonged at all. Thranduil eyed them a moment longer and then he stepped up onto the bridge that crossed the river and surveyed the Green, searching for his father-in-law. The guards in the family quarters told him that Amglaur had accompanied Legolas, Galithil and Berior onto the Green, but neither he nor the children seemed to be amongst the elves dancing and singing in front of the stronghold now.

A thunderous uproar of voices drew Thranduil's gaze to the training field.

There, on the far edge of the field, a large group of warriors lined both sides of a trail leading into the forest. They were all leaning forward to peer down the trail, cheering louder and louder by the moment. A horse race, Thranduil concluded, given that several well lathered horses were grazing in the field, waiting to be returned to the barns for a nice bath. Then Thranduil raised his eyebrows. There was Amglaur-with the warriors, cheering loudly enough that his voice raised above the others. Surely Amglaur was not gambling with the warriors! Shaking his head, Thranduil started across the bridge. It was just as well that his father-in-law was enjoying himself now, since the news that Thranduil intended to give him was somewhat alarming.

As Thranduil walked across the field, the cluster of warriors swiftly spilt apart. Thranduil's eyebrows rose again, this time even higher. At the very head of the path he could now see all of Legolas's friends and cousins standing near Amglaur. Berior, along with a young warrior opposite him on the other side of the path, stood with an arm extended out over the path, apparently marking the finish line for the race. Both were waving and stamping their feet, cheering on three riders that were approaching at breakneck speed from the dark path. Thranduil's jaw tightened. It was one thing if Amglaur was betting with the warriors himself. It was an entirely different thing if he was encouraging Legolas and his far-too-young cousins and friends to take part in such debauchery. But Thranduil did not see either Legolas or Tulus. He breathed a little easier upon realizing that. After all, it had been less than a week since he had caught Legolas participating in these contests. He would be none too pleased to see him back at it already.

The riders broke from the forest, their horses running so fast that they flew well past the cheering crowd before they could be reined in. At the sight of them, Thranduil's jaw fell open and he came to a complete stop, staring at the lead rider. It was Legolas. His cousins, friends and the majority of the warriors quickly surrounded him, shouting and slapping both him and his snorting, dancing horse in a congratulatory manner.

"That is my horse!" Thranduil exclaimed, though no one could hear his irritation. He was still far too far away from the crowd to be heard over their yelling.

He resumed his march across the field, striding even more swiftly, eyes fixed on his son. Legolas was leaning forward, stroking the flank of his excited mount and speaking into ears that twitched about. Thranduil had to admit he was somewhat impressed when Legolas managed to calm the powerful war stallion enough to put a stop to its stamping and dancing. Tulus, the third and last rider to emerge from the forest, had jumped down from the horse he was riding and approached Legolas, reaching for the stallion's headstall and stroking his neck soothingly. He looked up at Legolas with a broad grin that he appeared to be trying to restrain. Thranduil could not hear him over the still cheering crowd, but could see that he was also offering his congratulations. Legolas smiled at his guard and jumped down from the stallion to be immediately surrounded by his cousins and friends. Aewen, in particular, Thranduil noted, threw her arms around Legolas's neck and kissed his cheek. The young warrior that Legolas had been racing rolled his eyes, jumped down from his horse and turned away from the crowd in response to that.

Thranduil slowed his pace to study the situation a bit longer. He recognized what this was: a rematch for the coin that Legolas had won earlier this week. And Legolas had won the rematch as well. Thranduil had to make an effort not to laugh. The young warrior-Torthil, a First Year, if Thranduil remembered correctly-looked very disgusted. Disgusted enough to be labeled a rather poor loser, in Thranduil's opinion.

"Legolas keeps the coin!" one of the young warriors exclaimed as Thranduil drew closer.

"How many times are you going to lose that coin to him, Torthil?" taunted another, laughing.

Torthil glared at him.

Legolas also responded with a disdainful look. "That was a close race," he said.

Torthil only grimaced and, jerking his chin in a signal for his friends to follow, all but stalked away, pulling his horse by its headstall towards the barn.

"That was an incredible race, Legolas!" Berior shouted, ignoring Torthil. "I wish adar had been here to see it. He would have appreciated it."

"We appreciated it," two other elves said in unison. They were standing in front of a pair of warriors, their hands out, obviously collecting their winnings.

Thranduil frowned. One of the elves was Dollion, Aewen's father, the Captain of the Guard in the capital, and a notorious gambler-Aradunnon's former partner in crime in the gaming at the Oak. Thranduil expected nothing less of him but to make a wager at any opportunity. Still, he was not so pleased that the opportunity to wager arose from his own son's actions. The other winner was Crithad, Brethil's father. He disapproved of gambling nearly as much as Thranduil and Thranduil definitely did not want to believe that Legolas's participation in the race had inspired Crithad to bet on it.

Legolas looked at them uneasily. "Honestly, I do not think my adar would approve of this. Please, let's not make too much out of it."

"I made plenty from it," Dollion replied with a grin, allowing several copper coins to fall through the fingers of one hand into the palm of his other.

Legolas put his hands on his hips in an attempt to appear stern, but the effect was ruined when he stumbled forward a step as Dollion clapped him on the shoulder.

"You have nothing to worry about, Legolas," Galithil said. "Uncle Thranduil told you to give Torthil a chance to win back his coin. That is all you were doing."

Legolas looked at him sidelong. "Adar also said not to agree to any bet that was dangerous," he replied.

"This is a course that the First Year warriors train on," Galithil shot back. "How dangerous could it possibly be? Besides, your daeradar checked it out first. And gave his approval!"

Legolas turned to Galithil fully, raising his eyebrows as he did.

Amglaur draped an arm across Legolas's shoulders. "If your adar gives you any trouble when he hears about this race, you tell him to talk to me. I will remind him that his own adar was positively famous for the race courses he put together around Menegroth. It is only right that a child should take after his daeradar."

Legolas openly laughed in response to that. "I doubt adar will accept that as an excuse," he said. "And which of my daeradar's are you truly hoping I will take after with all this foolishness?" he added with a grin.

"Me, of course, and exactly as you imply-by aiding me in my pursuit of new ways to cause your adar a healthy amount of grief," Amglaur replied, with a wink. "Simply tell him I gave you permission and that will do very well."

"Very well indeed," Thranduil called, finally close enough to the celebratory group to no longer go unnoticed. Some of the warriors had already snapped to attention in response to his presence.

Legolas spun to face him, looking distinctly guilty.

The stallion next to Legolas, still breathing heavily, recognized his master and strode over to him, nuzzling Thranduil's shoulder with his nose and giving him a hard shove in the process. Thranduil turned his attention to his horse, reaching to stroke first his nose-the horse snuffled at his hands searching for treats-and then to scratch his neck.

"He is a fine horse," Thranduil commented. "I expect he performed well for you, Legolas."

Legolas bit his lip. "I hope you do not mind me borrowing him, adar," Legolas said softly.

Thranduil merely raised an eyebrow. He did not truly mind. Indeed, the exercise was undoubtedly good for the horse and something he enjoyed thoroughly. And Thranduil had taught Legolas to ride himself. On this very horse. He knew his son could handle him. Still, it did not hurt to let Legolas squirm a bit for borrowing the horse without permission to run a race that half the populace, apparently, had wagered on.

"Of course he does not mind," Amglaur replied for him, smiling. The smile was clearly a challenge. One Thranduil could not rise to under the current circumstances and Amglaur knew it.

"After all, one does not leave one's best horse in the barn during a horse race," Galithil added.

Thranduil turned to him, a barking laugh escaping him despite his best efforts to appear disapproving. "That was certainly something you learnt from Legolas's daeradar," he said.

Amglaur, still with an arm around Legolas, now reached with his other arm to draw Galithil to him. "Of course it was," he confirmed, smiling blandly at Thranduil, holding his son and foster son firmly as they both looked down and struggled not to giggle.

Thranduil shook his head and turned back towards the stronghold. "Amglaur, come with me please. One of the messengers from the Southern Patrol brought some news from Lothlorien that might interest you."

"News from Lothlorien?" Amgalur exclaimed, now completely serious.

Thranduil took some satisfaction from that and continued without response across the field.

* * *

"Pauron and his wife said they had fled from Lothlorien? Fled was their exact word?" Amglaur demanded. He sat leaned forward in his chair, his hands formed fists on the table surface and his grim expression bore painfully into the warrior across from him.

The warrior twisted the hem of his tunic around a finger. "Yes, my lord, I think so. I was more interested in learning who they were and what they were doing in the Forest and how they had managed to travel here from Lothlorien. I did not question them at length about why they left, but I do remember that they said they had left fearful of something that was going on there and that they intended to stay here, with kin they are looking for. And, of course, I was even more interested in the dwarves they had with them. A threat, they might have been, and one I needed to know more about. They appear to be harmless enough, though, as badly injured as they are. Too badly injured to bring back to the stronghold." He faced Thranduil. "As I said, we need someone who speaks Westron to question them. They apparently speak no Sindarin and none of the warriors in my group speak Westron well enough to communicate with them. And sending some medicine would not be a bad idea either. Their burns were very serious and the village healer seemed worried about her supplies."

Amglaur frowned and leaned back in his chair.

Thranduil nodded to the warrior. "Thank you," he said quietly. "You may go. Tell your lieutenant that we will send someone better equipped to manage the dwarves and their injuries immediately."

Everyone remained silent until the warrior had passed through through doors of the Hall. Then Amglaur turned to Thranduil. "I will deal with your dwarves. I am going going to speak to Pauron and his wife. If they 'fled' Lothlorien, I definitely want to know why. I want much more detail than that warrior supplied."

Seated next to him, Lindomiel nodded her agreement. Like her father, she sat stiffly, her normally bright expression dimmed considerably by the news that the warrior had delivered.

Thranduil frowned. "Naturally I expected you would want to speak to these elves from Lothlorien yourself. That is why I brought you to speak to the messenger from the Southern Patrol," he replied, keeping his tone as even as possible. He knew how on edge he would be if he were abroad and heard that elves were apparently fleeing the Woodland Realm. Especially if they had badly injured dwarves traveling with them. But there was no possibility that he was sending Amglaur to manage dwarves. "Perhaps Celonhael can go with you to speak to the dwarves while you speak to Pauron," he suggested.

Amglaur snorted, clearly not fooled by Thranduil's attempt to placate him. "Whatever is happening in Lothlorien is troubling enough, Thranduil. I would be happy to be relieved of the need to speak to dwarves. Send Celonhael, by all means. But do not doubt that I intend to find out how they are connected to whatever trouble there is in Lorien. Dwarves being what they are, they must be connected to that trouble somehow."

Thranduil only inclined his head towards his father-in-law, ignoring his disrespectful attitude. Then he looked at Hallion to confirm that his steward would see to briefing Celonhael and send him on his way with Amglaur, the sooner the better. But Hallion was shaking his head.

"Celonhael is helping Golwon distribute the winter supplies, my lord," he said. "They will be on the eastern border by now."

Thranduil's mouth turned downwards and his gaze unconsciously drifted around the table to where his absent advisors normally sat. Celonhael and Golwon-not that Thranduil would send Golwon-he was no more suitable a choice to deal with dwarves than Amglaur-were apparently not available. Dolgailon was on the western border, due home no one knew when. He paused, looking at Lindomiel. She undeniably dealt well with dwarves, but it was Fall. She was very busy managing food preparation for the winter stores and assembling the trade items due to be sent to Esgaroth. She did not have time to travel to speak to dwarves. Thranduil's mind turned to his advisors' wives. Perhaps Lindomiel could spare one of them. Ollwen and Arthiel, Silvan elleth, had little or no previous interaction with dwarves. Isteth had. And she was a strong enough personality to manage a dwarf. Still, Thranduil hesitated. Golwon preferred for his wife to leave the Hall when dwarves were scheduled to be present. What would Golwon do when he found out Thranduil sent his wife south to speak to dwarves? That would be an unpleasant scene at best, especially if Golwon returned before his wife. There was always Hallion. Thranduil returned his gaze to him and slumped a little in his chair with a tired sigh at the prospect of a week-possibly more-without the aid of his steward.

"Then I will speak to them for you Thranduil," Amglaur insisted, interrupting Thranduil's thoughts. "I want answers from them. And better that you send me to deal with dwarves than my daughter," he concluded, guessing at Thranduil's plans.

Thranduil's expression soured further. "I disagree, Amglaur," he said evenly. "If I sent Lindomiel, I would likely get the answers that I want. That is far preferable to sending you and having Khazad-dum declare war on the forest when Durin hears how you treated his people in my realm."

Amglaur lifted his chin and affected an insulted look. "I managed to serve my brother and nephew in Lothlorien for two Ages of this world without instigating a war, Thranduil."

"That is lucky for Lorien," Thranduil retorted. "But I am still not sending you to treat with dwarves. And before you protest, I am not sending Lindomiel either. She is too busy preparing the winter stores." His gaze again swept around the table. He had no good alternatives. He could not deny that.

"I will go, Uncle," Galithil said.

Thranduil looked at him sharply. He had almost forgotten that Legolas and his cousin had followed he and Amglaur into the Hall.

Galithil sat tall in his chair, facing the King with a completely calm, assured expression, as if his suggestion was one that should be considered.

Thranduil opened his mouth to discount it automatically. Then he closed it again and studied Galithil silently.

"The dwarves are in my village," Galithil argued quietly when Thranduil did not immediately refuse him. "Well, Dolgailon's village and he should be the one to manage their presence there. Since he is unavailable, I should do it. I speak Westron every bit as well as Legolas, and you just sent him to trade with Men. This matter is not even a negotiation. It is simply a matter of conversing with some dwarves to find out how they were injured. And I know you normally would not feel comfortable allowing me to travel to my village, but I would be safe enough going with Amglaur-Amglaur, whatever guard you send with him, and my guard. Three experienced warriors. Surely that is enough protection, along with the Western and Southern patrols, to keep me safe in a village. Especially since Dolgailon is in the south investigating why the Southern Patrol has seen so few orcs over the last season."

"The dwarves are injured, Galithil. Burned, the messenger said," Thranduil countered. "It is unlikely that Dwarves burned themselves in their forge and then traveled to Eryn Galen for aid. They were most likely injured by an enemy in battle. Orcs do not inflict that sort of injury. Dragons do. I do not want to send you anywhere near a dragon."

Amglaur sat bolt upright-the idea of a dragon near Lothlorien had obviously not occurred to him. Lindomiel turned an openly frightened gaze on her husband and father.

Thranduil grimaced, but pressed onward. "If some sort of battle is involved, this is not a simple matter of conversing with the dwarves. Some understanding of military strategy will be necessary when questioning these dwarves to ensure we obtain the information we need to defend this realm from whatever enemy has attacked the dwarves. Beyond that, there is also the village leader-Moralfien-to deal with. It must be impressed upon her that it is unacceptable that she did not inform me of the presence of these dwarves. That is not a message that would be well received from a child, even if that child is the King's nephew. Or son," he added in response to that fact that Legolas had sat forward in his chair, obviously prepared to join the argument.

Legolas drew a breath to speak, despite his father's argument, but Galithil signaled for him to be quiet and spoke himself. "I agree it is not my place, as yet, to manage Moralfien, but I could carry a letter from you to her, if you wish. As for the dwarves and whatever injured them, neither the village guards nor the patrols have reported seeing a dragon or any sign of one, so most likely, if a dragon is even involved, it is nearer to Khazad-dum, so it will be safe enough for me to go to the village with the guards and Amglaur. And I would do a good job speaking to the dwarves, because I enjoy their company rather than being prejudiced against them as many in this family are. I have spent the last twenty years summarizing the reports from the Patrols, my lord, so I have some idea what type of information must be gathered. Lord Amglaur and the guards can help me question them, but I can help keep the meeting civil, which was your primary concern when you suggested sending Lord Celonhael. I think I could help manage these dwarves."

Thranduil regarded Galithil silently for another moment. Then he glanced at Lindomiel.

"I do not have time to travel with Adar to speak to the dwarves," Lindomiel replied to his implied question. "I am sorry, but I am very busy with preparations for winter, as you already said. And even if I did, I would be the first to admit that Galithil is much more familiar with the type of information that goes into a military report than I am. As for his safety, I do not know anything about what the reports from the Southern Patrol have said, but I do trust my adar to take care of Galithil if they go together to the village."

Thranduil ignored Galithil's whispered 'thank you' to Lindomiel and turned instead to Tulus and Galuauth, the guard that had been assigned to Galithil while Colloth was in the south with Dolgailon. They were standing towards the back of the Hall in case their charges intended to return to the Green that evening. "What is your opinion on this matter, Galuauth?" he asked. "Do you feel comfortable escorting Galithil to his brother's village?"

Galuauth looked between Galithil's hopeful expression and Thranduil's serious one. Then he looked at Tulus. Tulus gave a slight nod. "I believe I could keep Galithil safe on the way to the village," he finally said. "Especially so if lord Amglaur and another guard were to accompany us."

Thranduil turned to Tulus. "And Galithil's swordsmanship? You have seen more of it on the training field than I have. Is it at least sufficient to give him some hope of being able to defend himself if you should encounter orcs?" Thranduil asked.

Now Galithil's expression became nearly pleading.

"Both Galithil and Legolas handle their weapons adequately, given the training they have had. They are no worse than many of the new warriors I saw defending the villages in the south before the training program was developed," Tulus answered. "Galithil might manage to kill an orc or two before he was killed himself if he found himself in a position where he was forced to defend himself unaided. Of course, I would not expect that to happen."

Thranduil turned to Conuion. "Do you have a guard you could spare to accompany Amglaur?"

The captain of the king's guards nodded. "We are stretched a bit thin, since I sent two guards with Celonhael and Golwon and two accompanied Dogailon south. But I could spare one more, my lord."

Thranduil nodded in response to that and turned back to Galithil. "Very well, you may go," he finally said. Then he looked at Legolas and Amglaur. "All of you."

That earned him a broad grin from Legolas and a scoffing snort from Amglaur.

"But we are going to discuss at length exactly what I expect of you," Thranduil continued sternly.

Galithil and Legolas both nodded as seriously as possible through their excitement. Dwarves had long been something that fascinated them both.

The warriors at the Forest Gate watched silently as the small party of strange elves came to a stop at the edge of the forest just before passing under the branches that formed the Forest Gate. They studied it carefully, peering into the dark forest and up into the branches of the trees. Then one nudged his horse forward a few paces in front of the others. "May we pass?" he called, speaking Silvan, though it was accented slightly differently from that spoken by the warriors in the trees.

"You may," one of the warriors responded in kind, leaping down from his post and landing lightly on the Path. "May we ask your names and the nature of your business? It has been a very long time since we have seen any of our brethren from Lothlorien. That is where you are from, unless I am much mistaken."

"My name is Haldir," the elf responded. "And these are my brothers, Rumil and Orophin. We are indeed from Lorien. We have come in search of our lord Amglaur, who is, we believe, currently a guest of your king."

The warrior nodded. He remembered the name Haldir from when the Queen first visited the Woodland Realm. It was a memorable name indeed, given that he had won most of the contests while he was here. It had been a very long time indeed, but this elf could very well be Haldir of Lothlorien. "You are correct," the warrior responded. "Lord Amglaur resides with the king and queen in the stronghold in the mountain that you will find at the end of this Path. It is a three day journey from here if you intend to ride hard. Longer if your pace is more leisurely."

Haldir put his hand over his heart and bowed his thanks to the warrior. "With your permission, we will attempt to make the journey as quickly as possible. Our business with lord Amglaur is urgent."

The warrior stepped back to the edge of the Path. "The road is yours," he said, returning Haldir's bow.

With a nod, Haldir and his brothers urged their horses to a gallop down the dark forest path.

The warrior signaled to his fellows in the trees around the Path. "Send the swiftest bird we have to the King to inform him of the passage of these Lothlorien elves," he ordered one of them. "And send another to the River, so that the officers there are forewarned of their arrival as well."

Adar/ada - Father/dad

Elleth/ellyth - Female elf/elves


	2. Chapter 2

_It came to pass that in the middle of the Third Age Durin was again its king, being the sixth of that name. The power of Sauron, servant of Morgoth, was then again growing in the world, though the Shadow in the Forest that looked towards Moria was not yet known for what it was. All evil things were stirring. The Dwarves delved deep at that time, seeking beneath Barazinbar for mithril, the metal beyond price that was becoming yearly ever harder to win. Thus they roused from sleep a thing of terror that, flying from Thangorodrim, had lain hidden at the foundations of the earth since the coming of the Host of the West: a Balrog of Morgoth. Durin was slain by it, and the year after Náin I, his son; and then the glory of Moria passed, and its people were destroyed or fled far away_. Appendix A

**Chapter 2: All Evil Things Were Stirring**

Galithil laid his hands flat over the shoulder blades of his horse and carefully lifted himself up just enough to ease the soreness of his backside. Riding all day for three straight days was not something he was accustomed to, so he was very glad to be nearing Dolgailon's village.

"Galithil? Galithil, is that you?" a voice called from the trees.

Galithil turned towards it, frowning. He knew no one this far south. Except for those few days surrounding his father's death-and Galithil had been largely secluded in a talan at that time-it had been 35 years since Galithil had been in the south. Even then he lived here less than a year. He could not imagine who could possibly be calling him by name.

A pair of warriors-or perhaps they were village guards-jumped down from a tree and onto the path. The warrior that had called to them walked right up to Galithil's horse. "It is you! What in all of Arda are you doing here, Galithil?" he exclaimed.

Galithil studied him a moment before recognizing him. "Galasserch?" he answered, his face brightening with a broad smile. He slid from his horse and grasped the outstretched hand of the warrior. "Legolas, this is Galasserch. Remember, I told you about him-he was the only other elfling I had to play with when I lived here with Adar." Galithil was looking his old friend up and down. "You are a warrior now!" he said, with obvious surprise, as Legolas also dismounted and moved to greet Galasserch.

"And already in the Southern Patrol? Surely that cannot be. You are not that much older than Legolas and I. You are too young to already be assigned to the south. And I never even saw you training. But," and he paused a moment as he studied the sword his friend and the other warrior were wearing-they were not the sort of sword that village guards carried. They were nearly as fine quality as the swords that Uncle Thranduil had allowed he and Legolas to carry south. They had definitely been issued by the King and the King struggled to arm all the warriors with swords. Arming the guards of hundreds of villages was not something he even attempted to do.

Galasserch straightened and his chest puffed out more than just a little. "I am one of the village's guards. I have been for almost ten years now," he replied, not waiting for Galithil to finish his question.

Galithil's eyebrows went up and his gaze turned again to his friend's sword. "An incredibly fortunate guard to have such a fine sword," he commented.

Galasserch grinned and pulled his sword from its scabbard, displaying it proudly. "It is wonderful. Moralfien, our village leader, gave us all swords soon after she became the village leader. It is truly an honor to have such a sword."

Galithil glanced at Legolas in response to the claim that the village leader supplied the guards with swords. There was a great deal wrong with that statement, not the least of which was the fact that the King did not allow the villages to trade with foreigners, and those swords had certainly not been made in Eryn Galen. Even if such trade was allowed, Galithil knew very well what was involved in the defense of his Adar's village- the second largest village in the forest and one that lay on the southern-most border. The village was defended by several dozen guards. How could the village leader have paid for enough swords for all of them? And however she managed it, Galithil could not deny he felt a little insulted by the fact that Galasserch was referring to Moralfien as the village leader. Dolgailon was the village leader. Moralfien only acted in that capacity when Dolgailon was not present in the village. To be fair, Dolgailon almost never traveled to visit the village and he certainly did not live here. But still...

Those thoughts were interrupted by the older of the two village guards. "May I ask what brings you here, my lords," he asked. His tone was polite, but his gaze, which moved from Galithil, to Legolas and finally settled on Amglaur, seemed less so. It was sharp, perhaps a bit annoyed, or even resentful. Galithil could not fathom why.

"We are here to speak with the dwarves from Hadhodrond and the elves from Lothlorien that the Southern Patrol reported are present in this village," Galithil answered before Amglaur could speak. "And, since my brother is not available, I am carrying a letter from the King for Moralfien."

The older guard snorted and Galasserch shifted from foot to foot in response to that. "In that case, you should have an interesting visit, my lord," the older guard replied. Then he turned to Galasserch. "Since you seem to know Lord Galithil, perhaps you can see him and the rest of the King's family into the village," he said. "Call for someone to open Lord Dolgailon's talan for them, then come straight back to duty. Do not dally about," he ordered, already making to climb back into the trees himself.

"I am sure we can find our own way to Adar's talan," Galithil replied. "There is no need for either of you to leave your duty if there are no other guards in this area." Then he grinned at his friend. "But come visit me when you are off duty."

Galasserch nodded, grinning back at him.

The older guard glanced at Galithil. Then he looked back up into the trees, not quite succeeding in hiding a scowl. "Your adar's talan," he repeated, muttering under his breath. "Would that it were still Lord Aradunnon's talan, and that Lord Aradunnon were still here to occupy it." He pulled himself up onto a low branch.

Galithil's eyebrows rose and he exchanged an inquisitive look with Legolas as the guard disappeared in the tree.

Tulus was also looking after the guard with a concerned expression, even as he addressed himself to Legolas. "I need to speak to the captain of the village guard and look into a few other security issues. If it suits you, I will go see to that now."

"You do not need me, do you Tulus?" Galuauth asked. "I will escort both Legolas and Galithil into the village and you can brief me later on anything you learn from the village guards."

"That seems to be a good idea," Tulus replied. He turned back to Legolas and Galithil. "By your leave then, my lords."

Amglaur waved his hand to dismiss Tulus, already striding past him swiftly, anxious to get into the village and speak to the Lothlorien elves.

To Legolas's amusement Tulus did not seem to accept Amglaur's dismissal. He was still looking at Legolas. "Of course, Tulus," Legolas replied, trying to stifle a smile.

Tulus sketched a bow and followed the older warrior and Galasserch into the trees. Legolas hurried after his grandfather into the village.

* * *

Legolas seated himself next to his grandfather at one of the long tables in the village's public hall. Galithil sat on Amglaur's other side. Amglaur gestured for Maenil and Pauron, the elves from Lothlorien that they had traveled to speak with, to seat themselves on the other side of the table. Without any preamble, he asked them to relate what had happened in Lothlorien to drive them to flee that realm.

As they began to speak, Legolas glanced around the hall. He had visited a few villages near the stronghold with his mother, but the buildings in those villages were all very simple. He had spent a few days in this village after Aradunnon had been killed, but he had been wounded himself, and mourning his uncle's death. He did not explore the village. He was impressed with what he had seen here so far. This hall was large-clearly designed for holding court-and nearly as elaborately decorated as the Great Hall in the stronghold. Legolas recognized some of the tapestries in it as his mother and grandmother's artisanry. The carvings on the woodwork were clearly Crithad's handiwork. Somehow, he had never thought of his mother or friend's father as having ever lived anywhere but in the village around the stronghold, though he knew both had moved to the stronghold after Thranduil ordered it built. Seeing evidence of their past lives in the southern part of the realm, when it was green and bright, seemed odd and a little sad.

"At first our kin from the northern forest streamed into Caras Galadhon with nothing more than frightening tales," Maenil was saying in a hushed voice. Her husband, Pauron, sat next to her, grim-faced, holding her hand.

Legolas brought his attention to the task at hand. A glance at his grandfather made him pause. Amglaur's posture was stiff and his jaw clenched as he leaned forward, toward the Lothlorien elves, as if he could will them to tell their story more quickly. He looked exactly as Thranduil did while listening to a warrior report damage that orcs had done to the forest. This was not a side of his grandfather that Legolas had ever seen.

"For the first few weeks," Maenil continued, "there were not that many of them. Then, over a month or so, there were more. And after the largest groups of them had moved through, the wounded began to appear."

Pauron nodded. "Orcs," he whispered and looked from side to side as if one might jump out from behind one of the pillars in the hall. "Orcs attacked them. Some of them...many of them...were mortally wounded."

Maenil covered her mouth with her hand and bowed her head at the memory.

Legolas kept his expression carefully neutral, as he was required to do in his father's court, but his mind raced with questions. The primary one he wanted to ask - of his grandfather, not of Maenil or Pauron - was: how is it that these Lothlorien elves were so overwhelmed by an orc attack? It was terrible that 'many' elves had been killed. That was certain. But, warriors and even villagers were regularly killed by orcs in Eryn Galen and, while people grieved, they did not run away as these elves apparently had. Their reaction made no sense to Legolas.

Amglaur sat silently, waiting with visibly decreasing patience for Maenil or Pauron to continue. When they did not, he leaned forward even more to draw their attention. "The warriors drove the orcs out of the forest, surely?"

Maenil looked up at him. "The warriors kept the orcs out of Caras Galadhon," she confirmed. "Mostly. But in the open forest, especially nearer the borders..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

Amglaur's eyes widened. "There are so many orcs that Amroth cannot keep them out of the forest?" he asked, voice rising. "And what do the dwarves have to do with it? Have the orcs attacked Hadhodrond as well? That would be absurd. All the dwarves have to do is close their gates and stay underground, just as they did throughout the wars in Eregion and Mordor."

Legolas frowned slightly in response to that. The way he had learned it, some dwarves had fought in both those wars.

Both Maenil and Pauron were again shaking their heads. "The dwarves have to get out of Hadhodrond. They cannot shelter there with the evil creature that has arisen inside the mines. That is where the orcs are going, we think-to join the evil thing that has taken over Hadhodrond."

Amglaur's jaw fell open and he did nothing to try to hide it. "What evil creature?" he exclaimed. "And are you saying that the dwarves-all of them-have been driven out of Hadhodrond?"

Maenil and Pauron both nodded. "They made a stand after Durin was killed..."

Legolas and Galithil both audibly gasped in response to that.

"... Their next King-I do not remember what I heard his name was-he fought the evil creature for almost a year now. But he must have fallen as well because for the last moon the dwarves have absolutely poured out of the mountain, my lord," Maenil replied, "From both the Hollin and Dimrill Gates, we heard."

"And orcs are swarming in," Pauron added gravely. "Unchecked by either the dwarves' armies or by our warriors."

Amglaur stared at them for a long moment. "Do you believe that I should go to Lord Thranduil and ask him for aid on Lothlorien's behalf? Has it come to the point where Lord Amroth would welcome such aid?"

Maenil looked away from Amglaur in response. Pauron only managed to meet his lord's gaze for a moment longer before he also looked down. "Many people have fled Lothlorien," he said softly. "The terror there is great, between the orcs' attacks and the rumors we hear of an even more powerful evil so nearby in Hadhodrond." He drifted off and bit his lip. Then he looked back at Amglaur. "Amroth was among those that fled, my lord. He went looking for Nimrodel earlier this summer. They went together, with a few others, to the havens, we heard."

Legolas froze in place in an effort not to react to that statement. Beside him, he heard Galithil draw a sharp breath before quickly stifling the sound. Amglaur blinked and a choking noise escaped his open mouth before he pressed his lips shut. Then he blinked again and shook his head slightly, reduced to stunned silence.

"You are surely mistaken," he finally said. "Lord Amroth would not abandon Lothlorien. Certainly not at such a time of need."

Maenil and Pauron looked at their hands. "Many of us abandoned Lothlorien, my lord," Pauron replied. "Amroth included."

"But not everyone left?" Amglaur asked. "Some of the people are still in the forest?"

Pauron nodded. "Many are loath to leave, but...well, for us at least, it is too terrible. We preferred to come here."

"And that is your privilege, but staying here is not a privilege I share. Thank you for speaking with me about this," he said stiffly. Then he stood and turned away from them without another word.

Legolas and Galithil nodded a quick thank you and goodbye to them and hurried after him.

"I need to find the swiftest way to get a message to Thranduil," Amglaur said to Galithil when he and Legolas caught up with him. "Do you know if this village has birds to carry messages to the stronghold?"

Galithil nodded. "It does," he said.

"Get me one," Amglaur ordered.

* * *

"Here are the last of the medicines," Galuauth said, dropping a large sack filled with smaller sacks of herbs onto a table in the village healer's cottage, where she was housing and treating the injured dwarves. Two dwarves occupied pallets against the wall; another sat on the floor next to the pallets. The injured dwarves were immobile and a large portion of their bodies bore open, bloody wounds covered by loose bandages.

The smell in the room was nauseating. Legolas had heard warriors complain that dwarves and men did not hold to the same standards of cleanliness that elves did. Indeed, Legolas remembered the one group of warrior men that he had met could indeed have profited from some time in the river. But these dwarves did not smell as if they needed a bath. The cottage smelled of burned and decaying flesh. It was all Legolas could do not to gag. He opened the sack Galuauth had carried into the cottage and began to unpack its contents, hoping the herbs Nestoreth had sent would smell fresh. He and Galithil pulled out the little sacks of medicine and lined them up along the edge of the table while the Salabeth and her assistant began taking stock of them.

One container-a jar wrapped inside a thick cloth-fell heavily from amongst the sacks of herbs. Legolas caught it before it rolled off the table and began to remove the cloth so it would be less wobbly.

"Argh!" he exclaimed, shoving the jar to arm's length and pulling his hands away quickly.

The cloth wrapper pulled even further off the jar, revealing a slithering, squirming mass of bugs.

"Whatever was in there has obviously gone bad," Legolas said, eyeing the jar with a disgusted expression.

Salabeth and her apprentice smiled at him. "No," she said, "Nestoreth intended to send us a jar of maggots. We will use them to treat the dwarves' burns. They eat the dead flesh and thus help to clean the wound."

As if the smell in the room was not bad enough! Legolas looked at the healer in horror. "You are going to do what?" he asked. "Put those on the dwarves? And you think they will let you do that?"

The healer's smile broadened. "They will if they want to survive those burns and avoid a great deal of pain. The alternative is that I can scrub off the dead flesh."

Legolas stared at her a long moment. Then he looked at the dwarves' wounds. Finally, he looked at Galithil. His cousin was swallowing. Hard. Legolas understood that. He picked up the cloth that had covered the jar and draped it over the top of it.

"Hopefully one of these herbs is something to make them sleep while you clean their wounds then, whichever method you use to do it," he said quietly. "We will help you mix the medicine, if you like."

The healer looked over at him, eyebrows raised.

"We are certainly not Nestoreth's apprentices," he explained, "but the King often has us help her, either by grinding up the herbs or mixing pastes or rolling bandages or even holding things for her while she treats someone. We have helped often enough in the infirmary that if you show us what you need done, we can do it properly," he said.

Next to him, Galithil nodded.

Salabeth picked up several sacks of herbs and began spilling their contents into bowls. "I do not think the King sent his sons to this village to play healer for our dwarves. Please feel free to go about whatever your true business might be here, my lords. We can manage the dwarves, especially now that we have more medicine. Thank you for delivering it and please give our thanks to Nestoreth and the King."

"Our business is to speak to the dwarves," Galithil replied.

Salabeth studied him skeptically a moment. Then she shrugged. "Suit yourself, my lord. They will need a good deal of care, so I am happy to have any assistance. Help if you will and try to speak to them as you wish. Perhaps you can explain the use of the maggots. I do not doubt that you are right they will resist that treatment if they do not understand it. But, fair warning: do not expect the dwarves to talk to you. None of them have spoken to us yet. Not a single word. I think they are in shock from whatever it was that caused their injuries and that is certainly understandable. It was obviously quite traumatic." She paused and picked up a pair of small cauldrons. "We will begin their treatment by grinding these marigold flowers as finely as possible and then scooping them into these sacks. We will make a tea out of them that will help heal the wounds once they are better cleaned. I will start water boiling." She curtsied and then turned to walk away, signaling her assistant to come with her.

Legolas followed their movement with his eyes and, in doing so, he noticed the sitting dwarf was looking at him. Staring, in truth. The dwarf's hand covered the hand of one of the immobile dwarves. A family member, Legolas thought. A brother or father. The sitting dwarf's beard was short. Legolas wondered if it was singed and therefore shortened or if the dwarf was young and his beard was not fully come in yet. Unlike the other two dwarves, his clothes were blackened in places, but not burned through and his skin was unnaturally red, but not bloodied or charred. Probably a child, Legolas concluded. Less injured than his family because they had shielded him from harm as parents naturally do for their children. The dwarf never took his eyes off Legolas as he began to grind the herbs.

* * *

"Did you see the message your daeradar sent to the stronghold?" Galithil asked after they had worked silently for quite some time. He spoke in a very soft voice, but even so, he spoke in Westron. The subject of that message was not for public discussion.

Legolas frowned and tied off the little sack full of dried marigold flowers in his hands. Then he dipped it in the steaming water that Salabeth had brought over from the hearth, jostling it until the entire sack submerged below the surface of the water. He had seen his daeradar's message. He just did not really want to talk about it. He plucked the spent sack of flowers out of the other pot on the table and cut it open without answering his cousin's question, scraping the mushy flower petals off the cloth and onto an ever-growing pile of spent herbs.

Galithil began dipping the fresh bandages that Salabeth had given them into the marigold 'tea.' "With Lord Amroth gone, Amglaur is not going to be returning to Lothlorien temporarily. You know that, right?" he pressed.

Legolas sighed and nodded without looking up from the task of dumping more flowers into the newly cleaned sack and tying it closed again. "Obviously not," he replied, submitting to the inevitable. When Galithil wanted to discuss something, he would never be deterred. "Daeradar is the King of Lothlorien now. Kings tend to live in the lands they rule." Legolas hardly needed Galithil to remind him what happened when kings were lost. He knew his daeradar had to do his duty to his people, but even so, Legolas already missed Amglaur. Moreover, he worried about him traveling into unknown dangers in Lothlorien. To be fair, he knew Galithil did as well. Amglaur had become a second father to him. He was the playful side of Aradunnon's personality in contrast to Thranduil's role as the responsible parent. Amglaur's departure would be a loss for them both. Legolas knew he should not be sharp with his cousin. He just couldn't seem to help it.

Seeking distraction, Legolas turned his gaze to the dwarves on their cots. The two badly injured dwarves were perfectly still-the one only just beginning to stir a bit from the sleeping draught he had been given, the other still unconscious. The uninjured one was looking at Legolas again. No distraction there-only reminders.

"Daeradar is focused now on how he can most swiftly get to Lothlorien and what he will need to do immediately upon arriving there," Legolas said. "Which of Amroth's advisors and captains he must speak to, which ones he most hopes are still there, what information he wants from them to hold Lothlorien together and prevent more of his people from fleeing, whether he can ask for help from Eryn Galen and what good it might do. I imagine that is what is going through his mind right now. It is only a matter of time before he realizes that these dwarves know what he most needs to know-precisely what enemy he is facing. Once that thought occurs to him, he is going to charge in here and start demanding answers from them." He loosed a quiet, scoffing laugh. "Knowing how Daeradar feels about dwarves, that conversation will not go well."

"Your adar is going to be right behind your daeradar asking questions and demanding answers," Galithil responded. "Once he hears that Lothlorien's king and a good portion of her people have fled the forest...when he hears there are not just a few injured dwarves, but rather that the entire dwarven realm has been destroyed..." He lowered his voice to a bare whisper despite the unlikelihood that anyone in the village spoke Westron, "Khazad-dum is only a few days travel from where we are right now, Legolas. Whatever destroyed the mountain fortress of Khazad-dum could do the same to open forest very easily. Worse, if it destroyed a dwarven stronghold as deep as Khazad-dum...a stronghold built into a solid mountain range...it could easily destroy our stronghold here. This is no minor news. When your adar hears it...well, I think that to say he is going to react very badly would be a rampaging understatement."

Legolas looked over at his cousin sharply. How had he not thought of that himself! Adar would be in this village as fast as his horse could carry him, and Legolas knew exactly how fast that horse was. He also knew the horse was not kept in shape to be that fast and strong for racing, but rather to carry his father into war. Was a threat that destroyed two kingdoms one that Thranduil would challenge in open battle or was it one that would force him to lead the people of this forest further north? The only way to know that was to know exactly what the threat was. He turned his attention back to the dwarves and began to stand.

The young dwarf sat up a bit straighter and his expression tightened.

Legolas stopped without stepping away from the table. "The two injured dwarves need to be left to rest, Salabeth said. And the uninjured one..."

"Salabeth said he is traumatized, I know," Galithil said with obvious skepticism. "I have never heard of a traumatized dwarf. Rodonon taught us that dwarves were tougher and stouter than even elves in battle. But we were sent here for a reason: to find out what happened to those dwarves. We still need to do that, now more than ever. We have to speak to the uninjured one, traumatized or not."

"I think he is a child, Galithil," Legolas said. "Rodonon also said men do not get beards until they are adults. Look at that dwarf's beard. It is not nearly as long or full as the other two, and their beards are scorched. Maybe Dwarves are like Men and their beards are not full until they are adults. If he is a child...and maybe one of those injured dwarves is his father...and neither of them appears to be his mother..."

Galithil shook his head and practically flinched away from looking at the dwarves, obviously sharing the pain of the young dwarf that had likely lost one parent and might still lose the other. "You are right," he conceded quickly. "We cannot try to press the child. Perhaps one of the others. If one of them could talk to us, and answer the questions we were sent to ask, maybe Uncle and your daeradar would be satisfied and leave them alone."

"The other dwarves are too badly injured to focus on our questions," Legolas countered. "There has to be another way to find out what attacked Khazad-dum." He looked at Galithil as a thought occurred to him. "Maenil said that dwarves were pouring out of Khazad-dum, so these cannot be the only three dwarves to ask about what has happened there. We need to find other dwarves to ask."

Galithil laughed grimly at that. "There are obviously no other dwarves in this village, Legolas. They are all undoubtedly exactly where these dwarves and Maenil and Pauron came from-the plain between here and Lorien. I do not think Tulus will agree to escort us there and I think he might notice if you make another excursion on your own-not that it would matter to you if he did notice after you were killed by the same orcs that have been attacking Lorien and Khazad-dum."

Legolas made a sour face at his cousin and then glanced Galuauth, who was still with them, helping prepare the herbs to treat the dwarves. Tulus was indeed still angry with Legolas for slipping into the forest while they were hunting and Legolas did not appreciate Galithil making light of that here, in front of Galuauth.

In response to Legolas's expression, Galuauth raised an eyebrow. "I cannot speak for Tulus, but I think Galithil is probably correct," he confirmed, but his tone was more joking than forbidding.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Obviously I am not suggesting that we should go to the border looking for more dwarves ourselves. But the Patrol will surely see more of them. We should send a message for them to look out for Dwarves and approach them when they see some. We can question those dwarves, or they can be brought to the stronghold for Adar to speak to. We will eventually have to find more adult dwarves, anyway. The adult dwarves we have here are looking at a very long recovery, if they even survive, and they will not want to stay here through all of it, but they will need help traveling. And the child will need someone to escort him to where ever the dwarves intend to refuge. We do not have any idea where that might be and even if we did, the child needs one of his own people to take him there and look after him. We need to find more dwarves, and since we do, I think we should wait to question those. It is wrong to ask the child about battles and it is unlikely he understood what he saw well enough to provide useful answers anyway."

Galithil pressed his lips together, apparently finding no argument against that.

Galuauth scowled. "Unfortunately, Legolas is correct," he said. "And that is a very serious problem because Galithil's evaluation of the risks to this realm was also very accurate. The warriors need more information to prepare a better defense." He paused and studied the dwarves. "I still think you should try speaking to the younger one. He is almost the size of an adult dwarf, from what I have seen of dwarves. Maybe he is an adolescent. If he is, he might be able to handle speaking of what he has seen. You will not know until you try. And the King was wise to send you both to do this. Neither he nor Lord Amglaur will manage the conversation as gently as you will, much less now that they know how serious this situation is. If you can get any information, you would have a better chance of satisfying the King and protecting the child."

Legolas looked back at the sitting dwarf and considered that. Then he sagged a little. "You are probably right," he said softly. Then he looked at Galithil. "Do you want to try to speak to him or do you want me to do it?" he asked.

Galithil drew a deep breath and stood, taking a reluctant step towards the dwarves.

The uninjured dwarf stood and faced him squarely. "I will speak to you, sons of Thranduil," he said in Westron, his voice sounding raw, probably from breathing smoke. "If for no other reason than I know your Lord King well enough to know that he will not speak to me as kindly as you are speaking about me. Besides that, you have both been generous to help the healers in their work, so I am inclined to speak to you in payment for that generosity. But mostly I will speak to you because you are correct that your Lord King has the right to know whatever I can tell him about the evil that threatens his realm. Thranduil is gruff, but he has treated us fairly in all our dealings. I owe him that."

Legolas and Galithil exchanged a surprised look in response to that announcement. Legolas was surprised by how strongly the dwarf spoke and by the fact that he apparently knew Thranduil and recognized Legolas and Galithil for who they were. But mostly Legolas was surprised by the dwarf's voice-though raspy, it sounded familiar to him. How could that be? He had only heard two dwarves speak in his entire life-the one the patrols captured almost twenty years ago and Durin's representative from Khazad-dum that had negotiated with his father on several occasions. Legolas's eyes widened and he looked back at the dwarf. He and his cousins never saw either of those dwarves very clearly, having spied on the King's meetings with them without permission. This could not possibly be...

The dwarf's grave expression lightened momentarily in amusement. "Nis, at your service," he said with a bow that allowed his short beard to touch the floor.

"Galithil and Legolas," Galithil pointed at himself and then at his cousin. "At yours and your family's," he responded automatically with the phrase Rodonon had long drilled into him. Both Legolas and Galithil returned the bow.

"Pardon me," Legolas added quickly. "Nis, of the House of Durin?"

"That is correct," the dwarf responded, bowing again. "Nis, daughter of Dalin, Durin's brother." Now the dwarf's expression appeared almost mischievous as she pointed to herself. "Daughter," she repeated, "and that explains why my beard is less impressive than my husband and brother's," she explained, gesturing at the two injured dwarves.

"I beg your pardon," Legolas replied solemnly. He could feel heat rising in his face. He had certainly insulted the dwarf-both by mistaking her gender and by insulting...her...beard. He decided from what he had learned about dwarves, the beard was the greater of the two evils. "It is a fine beard, certainly."

The dwarf's expression grew stern again. "Finer than any you are likely to manage. The only elf I have ever seen with a decent beard is Cirdan and his is not a full as mine," she concluded, stroking the length of her beard.

Legolas only nodded, completely at a loss for any acceptable response. How did one respond after insulting a dwarf's beard? A female dwarf, no less. With a beard!

Nis took pity on him and addressed the topic at hand. "I regret that I cannot tell you what creature it is that has driven us from Khazad-dum. I saw it. My husband and brother both fought it. But none of us had ever seen anything like it, so we cannot say what it was. But I will tell you how we have fought it, so that you may know the failed strategies that are not worth repeating should it venture out of the mountain." She raised her eyebrows. "Will your Lord King, who would not, in your words, press a child for details of a battle, be angry with me for sharing those details with his own children? You must be children still, after all. Unless the Elves now normally require their advisors to spy on meetings from under a tapestry hanging behind the throne."

Legolas grimaced and looked behind him at Galuauth. If the guard were to repeat that bit of information to Thranduil... But Galuauth did not react at all to the dwarf's question. He only continued looking at her evenly, with no change in his expression at all.

Galithil shook his head. "The King sent us specifically to speak you and find out what had attacked your kingdom. He will only be angry if we manage to learn nothing," he answered.

"Very well," Nis said. She settled herself to sit on one of the cots. Legolas and Galithil came over to the cots as well, and sat in the chairs the healers had been using while treating the dwarves. "As I said, we do not know what manner of creature it is that attacked our home. It originally arose from the deepest shaft in the mithril mines. The workers there had struck a new vein of mithril...a very promising one...and they were cutting away large pieces of granite to determine the vein's full size. When none of those workers came to the dining hall at the end of the day almost a year ago, their wives and children went to look for them. When they also did not return, warriors were sent to investigate. The one that managed to return told us, before he also died, that he saw smoke and heat as if from a huge forge arise from cracks in the mine's floor. Then fire erupted all around him and all his comrades were set ablaze. He escaped only because he was in the rear of the search party."

"Surely it was a dragon?" Galithil asked quietly. "Breathing fire?"

Nis shrugged. "We thought that might be the case at first, though how one got into the mine shafts, we had no idea. So, despite the promising new vein of mithril, our miners began to work to seal the mine shaft where this creature was killing our people. Let it sit in there and rot. Let it see how long it might live on mithril and granite, we thought. Nothing molested the workers while they made the preliminary cuts at the entry to that shaft, but when they returned to make the final cuts and collapse the shaft entirely, the evil arose again and this time it did not stay in the mines. It came out, into the halls of Khazad-dum, burning everything in its path. Our King led his best warriors to drive it back. They were all killed. Their axes and armor-all steel-melted like wax in a forge, I was told. Nothing was recovered of them, so steel alone is no use against this evil."

Legolas and Galithil stared at her with wide eyes.

"The Woodland Realm grieves the loss of Lord Durin, my lady," Legolas finally said softly.

"Indeed. And my cousin and I, personally, are sorry for the loss of your Uncle and King," Galithil added.

Nis nodded stoutly, without looking at them. "Durin's son, Nain, sent warriors after the creature-which we then named Durin's Bane. This time, they were clad in mithril armor."

Legolas and Galithil tried not to react to that. There was not enough mithril in the Woodland Realm to plate a shield, much less full armor. Much less full armor for an entire army.

"Mithril lasts longer-much longer-in the face of this enemy. In mithril armor and wielding our best swords, those protected with enchantments, we were able to drive Durin's Bane back into the mines. But swords do not seem to wound it badly. It is large-as tall as the flets you Elves live in are high in the trees. And it appears to be made of fire itself. Of molten rock and smoke. Its form is hard to discern and it is even harder to land a solid blow upon it. Eventually, even the best swords are made brittle by exposure to the creature's fire. And even protected by mithril armor, our warriors were burned badly attacking it. We held it in the mines at the cost of many warriors. We tried flooding the passage we held it in, to extinguish its fire. The water turned to steam and burned our warriors. We tried crushing it by collapsing passages, but it seemed to seep through the rocks, uninjured. And then the orcs began attacking from without, while we still had to fight Durin's Bane from within. When Nain was killed a little over a moon ago, his young son, Thrain, our new King, decided the mountain was lost. We fought our way past the orcs at our gates and fled. Fortunately, Durin's Bane did not seem interested in leaving Khazad-dum and so it did not pursue us. The orcs did, however, and some of us," she glanced back at her husband and brother, "were already wounded fighting Durin's Bane. Escape under those circumstance is very difficult. My sister, brother's wife and I were separated from the others during an orc attack. We managed to escape the orcs, but my sister and sister-in-law were killed. I was very lucky to have been found and helped by the Elves that brought me here, I do not deny it. Without their aid and willingness to share food and water, I could not have carried my husband and brother to safety. It is my intent, when I am able, to join our new King in the Grey Mountains, where he has decided to establish a new kingdom amongst our kin there."

Legolas and Galithil exchanged a surprised glance. The Grey Mountains!

"How could you have carried either of them, much less both, any distance by yourself? And how could you hope to travel alone all the way to the Grey Mountains?" Galithil asked before he could stop himself.

Nis stood, lifted her chin and pulled herself up to her full height. "I am Nis, Dalin's daughter, of the House of Durin. They are my husband and brother. How could I not? I pulled one on his litter a few paces and then went back for the other and so forth, making as much distance as I could each day. The Grey Mountains and the safety and protection of my kin will not move to me. I must move to them."

Legolas stared at her a long moment. "I am certain that once you and your husband and brother are ready to continue traveling, the King will provide you a safe escort, at least to the northern border of the forest. There, you will be close to the mountains. In the meantime, I will be sure that the King knows that members of Durin's household are here, in case there is anything else that either he or his healer think might aid in your family's recovery."

In response to that, Nis bowed again. "We are in your debt," she said.

"Legolas, my lady. And his cousin, Galithil, along with Lord Amglaur and at least three guards that we have seen," the villager said, speaking almost in a whisper.

Moralfien allowed her annoyance to show with a single raised eyebrow.

"One of the guards is Galuauth," Dannenion added swiftly, stepping closer to speak into her ear, while Dolwon lingered against the wall of the talan, wringing his hands. "Galuauth came into Thranduil's service long after Lindomiel joined the court. He will not know you." He paused. "But Amglaur will certainly remember you. And so will his guard, Hurion. Worst of all, the last guard is Tulus."

The brow climbed higher. Moralfien turned her gaze to Dannenion and regarded him silently.

* * *

Adar - Father

Daeradar - Grandfather

Hadhodrond - the Sindarin name for Khazad-dum


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: All those who bring wars and destroy the peace of old**

_Though Sindarin in descent he lived after the manner of the Silvan Elves and housed in the tall trees of a great green mound, ever after called Cerin Amroth. This he did because of his love for Nimrodel. For long years he had loved her, and taken no wife, since she would not wed with him. She loved him indeed, for he was beautiful even for one of the Eldar, and valiant and wise; but she was of the Silvan Elves, and regretted the incoming of the Elves from the West, who (as she said) brought wars and destroyed the peace of old. She would speak only the Silvan tongue, even after it had fallen into disuse among the folk of Lórien; and she dwelt alone beside the falls of the river Nimrodel to which she gave her name. But when the terror came out of Moria and the Dwarves were driven out, and in their stead Orcs crept in, she fled distraught alone south into empty lands. Amroth followed her and at last he found her under the eaves of Fangorn. _Unfinished Tales

Legolas, Galithil and Galuauth walked quickly from the healer's cottage heading back to their talan to tell Amglaur what they had learned from the dwarves, and to include their own message to Thranduil, if Amglaur's courier had not already left.

As they walked, Legolas looked over his shoulder at Galuauth.

"Will you mention to Adar what Nis said about how she recognized us?" he asked.

"I beg your pardon, Legolas? What did Nis say? I must not have heard it," Galuauth replied. His tone was sincere. It sharply contrasted with the sardonic glare he leveled on Legolas.

Legolas did his best to appear contrite. "Thank you, Galuauth."

"Thank you for what, Legolas?" Galuauth said. Then his glare grew even more stern. "I will mention nothing to the King, but I will mention to you that I happened to be the guard in the throne room on the day that Lord Dolgailon was caught spying when he was a child. The ensuing conversation-which, of course, I also did not hear-lasted for nearly an hour, contained words like 'betrayal' and 'deeply disappointed' and 'borders on treason,' and left Dolgailon reduced to tears. At the time, he was around the same age that you are now. I recommend that you keep that in mind."

Legolas and Galithil both winced at that description. Dolgailon had already confessed that misdeed to them, also in an attempt tp persuade them to stop spying, but he had not given them that level of detail. Legolas could not...he did not even want to try to imagine the words 'borders on treason' coming from his father's mouth to describe something he had done. He could not deny that he knew that was how Thranduil would react to finding him crouching behind that tapestry. He and his cousins had promised themselves a hundred times that they would not spy on Thranduil anymore only to find another irresistible reason to do so.

"We will remember it, Galuauth," Legolas promised.

Galuauth shook his head. "But you will not agree to cease spying on the King because you are unwilling to make a promise that you know you cannot keep," he said with an openly disgusted tone as they approached the village courtyard. "You may want to ask yourselves, my lords, as you conduct the King's business in this village: at what point does spying on conversations that the King intentionally excludes you from move from childish impulsiveness to adult disobedience?"

Legolas bit his lip and he and Galithil remained silent. There was no argument against what Galuauth had said.

They were nearly to the village courtyard when Galithil caught Legolas's sleeve and drew him to a stop.

"Is that Dolwon and Dannenion?" he whispered, nodding towards a group of elves seated under the trees on the edge of the courtyard.

Legolas frowned and followed Galithil's gaze. He saw Maenil, Pauron, Galithil's friend Galasserch, the older village guard who had greeted them on their arrival, along with a few other elves. They were all sitting in a circle, talking and sipping wine. Several musicians were arriving in the courtyard as well, preparing for the evening's revelry. Legolas focused on two elves sitting across from Maenil and Pauron. Their backs were to him, but they could be Dolwon and Dannenion. Legolas took a few steps closer towards the group, trying to determine if Galithil was right. He heard Maenil singing:

"Beside the falls of Nimrodel,

By water clear and cool,

Her voice as falling silver fell

Into the shining pool."

"I do not understand," interrupted one of the elves that Legolas was peering at. "Is Nimrodel the name of the maiden or the name of a river?"

Legolas looked at Galithil and they both mouthed, 'Definitely Dannenion.'

"It is the name of both-the maiden and the river," Maenil responded somewhat crossly. "Nimrodel, the maiden, lived near the river and so we named it after her."

"If the river runs through your city, why not name it after your city or your King? Why the maiden?" Dolwon asked.

"The river does not run through our city. It is a good distance from Caras Galadhon," Maenil answered tightly.

"But I thought you said this song was about the maiden your King abandoned your people for. How could she be courting the King, but live by a river no where near where he lived? It makes no sense. You are being confusing."

Maenil glared at Dannenion. Her husband, Pauron, took over trying to explain. "Nimrodel and Amroth love each other," he said, speaking as if to a child. "But, just the same, she lived outside Caras Galadhon because she did not like all the customs of the Sindar. Caras Galadhon was too much of a city for her. Too settled and rigid. She preferred the forest and especially the running river." He hesitated. "And she thought the Sindar were responsible for the orcs, which is, of course, ridiculous."

"And so you see why I thought you would enjoy this story about Nimrodel," said the elleth sitting next to Dannenion.

Legolas frowned at her as Dannenion and Dolwon snorted in laughter and encouraged Maenil to continue with her song.

"I think I would like to hear this song as well," Legolas said coolly, resuming his march towards the courtyard, but this time heading towards its center, rather than Dolgailon's talan on its southern edge.

"We need to tell your daeradar what we learned from Nis," Galithil said, following him. "And get that information back to your adar."

Legolas kept walking. "It is nearly nightfall. We missed the courier. Our message will not leave this village until tomorrow regardless of when we write it. I want to hear this song."

"I do not want to argue publicly in Dolgailon's village. Especially with my future father-in-law. His presence alone is unpleasant enough, without provoking him. Especially on this topic." Galithil caught at Legolas's sleeve again when none of his arguments stopped him. "Remember what your adar told us: we are to stay away from Dannenion and Dolwon and let them fall into their own trap. They have one foot in it now, apparently. Leave them to it."

Legolas sighed and stopped. "I do remember what Adar told us. And I am not going to engage in public arguments," he assured his cousin. "I am not stupid enough to do that while we are supposed to be here representing Dolgailon and the King. But I would like to know who Dannenion and Dolwon are visiting here that seems to find mocking Sindar presence in the forest as amusing as they do."

Galithil did not release Legolas's tunic. "That is certain to lead to public arguments of the sort neither Dolgailon nor the King would approve of us participating in," he warned. "Legolas, I am not going to allow anyone, even you, to start trouble in my village."

Legolas broke into an incredulous grin and looked his cousin up and down appraisingly. "As you wish, Lord Galithil," he replied. "May I have your leave to simply go sit and listen. I would be willing to wager that my presence will have an impact on that discussion. And besides, between the two of us, I am not the one with the unrestrained, smart mouth."

Galithil rolled his eyes and let go of his cousin's tunic. Then he loosed a sigh. "You are correct that we missed the courier. And I cannot deny that if we were in the capital, I would not pass on the opportunity to put Dannenion, Dolwon and whoever that elleth is in their place. But we are not in the capital. You need to remember that your adar has much less authority in the villages. Many of the people in the villages, especially this far from the stronghold, live here to put distance between themselves and the King because they, like this Nimrodel, apparently, prefer a lifestyle less influenced by Sindarin customs. You are not necessarily going to find the support you expect here."

Legolas raised his eyebrows.

"Let us go over and greet Dannenion and Dolwon," Galithil conceded. "If we can, we will find a way to make it clear to them that we heard their conversation. It is certainly not one they want repeated to the King. Then we can ask Galasserch to show us to the village leader's talan so we can deliver the King's message to her. But please take care not to start a fight here." He waved his hands when Legolas drew a sharp breath to protest. "A debate, then. Not a fight. Whatever you call it, we do not want to engage in it here. It is not our place."

Legolas sighed. "You are right-and believe me, I never thought I would say that," he added with a sidelong smirk at his cousin. "But I like your idea of at least greeting Dannenion and Dolwon. They are family now, after all."

Galathil made a choking noise in response to that reminder, but followed his cousin without further protest.

"May I join you?" Legolas asked politely, as he and Galithil approached the elves. Most of them stood as soon as they saw Legolas. After a moment, Maenil and Pauron did the same. Then the elleth-the one that thought Dannenion and Dolwon would like to hear about Nimrodel-stood, looking at Legolas with unconcealed condescension. Finally, after heaving loud sighs, Dannenion and Dolwon stood as well. Only two elves remained seated, leaning against a broad tree, gazing steadily at Legolas.

Legolas looked at the standing elves silently for a moment, confused by their actions. Then it dawned on him. "Please sit," he said in a quiet voice. "May I join you?"

"Of course, my lord," said the older guard. "We are honored by your presence here."

Legolas inclined his head to the guard, smiling warmly. The elf smiled back, and bowed at the waist before he reseated himself.

Meanwhile, Galithil turned his attention on Dannenion and Dolwon. "We can only stay a moment, but when Legolas and I saw you," he said, speaking directly to Dannenion, "we clearly could not fail to greet our family."

Legolas's head snapped around in response to Galithil's repetition of the phrase that had, only moments earlier, made him gag, but luckily no one else noticed Legolas's reaction in the face of Dannenion's. He had been taking a long drink of wine after re-seating himself. Upon hearing Galithil's words, Dannenion spluttered so badly into the wine that anyone would have thought he might drown in it. Even after lowering the goblet, he continued to choke, while swiping at his tunic to remove the wine that had spilled upon it.

"Family?" the older guard, repeated, sounding as surprised as Dannenion. His tone held a mixture of horror and disgust.

Galithil smiled blandly at him. "Indeed. The news has likely not reached this far south, but I am betrothed to Dannenion's daughter, Maidhien. We exchanged rings just a few days before Legolas and I left to travel to this village." He held up his hand so all could see the silver ring Maidhien had given him.

"Well, that is lovely news, Dannenion!" said the elleth sitting next to him-the one that was so interested in Nimrodel. "I cannot believe that you forgot to mention it to me. Make up for it now by introducing us all to the King's family, since you are part of it."

Dannenion cast her a scathing glare. Then he turned it on Galithil. Only when he saw Galithil would not flinch away from his glare did he look down, regain control of himself, and stand. "Of course, I will introduce you," he said in a tight voice. "Legolas..."

Dolwon poked him in the back.

Dannenion glanced over his shoulder and made a face at his friend. "Lord Legolas," he corrected himself. "And Lord Galithil, you appear to know Galasserch and Seregon," he began, nodding towards Galithil's friend and the older guard. "This is Meril and Ninimion," he continued, gesturing to the other villagers that had stood immediately upon Legolas's approach. "This is Eglennil and Bronil," he indicated the elves leaning against the tree-the ones that had never bothered to stand. "And this is Moralfien," he concluded, ending with the elleth that had thought Nimrodel interesting.

"The village leader," Legolas observed, glancing at Galithil before they both bowed slightly to her. That is the village leader? he thought to himself.

She stood and curtseyed. "It is indeed an honor to have you here in our village, my lords." she said.

Seregon snorted. "And that is the kindest thing I have ever heard lady Moralfien say to or about a Sindarin lord," he said in a clear voice, looking at her evenly. Then he turned back to Legolas. "Why just a moment ago, before your arrival, Moralfien was commenting on how interesting she finds it that Nimrodel of Lorien lived outside of Caras Galadhon to escape Sindar influence. Tell us, Lord Legolas, do you find such stories equally interesting?"

Legolas stifled a sigh. Galithil was definitely right about the song's potential to cause a fight. "If I recall correctly," he said, addressing himself to Maenil, "you mentioned to Lord Amglaur that Nimrodel was Lord Amroth's beloved. Is that correct?" he asked, hoping to divert the conversation. It was a tactic he had seen his uncles use many times when uncomfortable or unsuitable topics arose on the Green.

"She was," Maenil replied. Her gaze darted between Legolas, Seregon and Moralfien and she said no more.

Disctraction tactics, Legolas realized, depended greatly on having someone present to aid in the distraction. Fortunately, Galithil stepped forward to face Moralfien.

"For my part, I find it most interesting to hear such a topic being discussed," he said looking at Dannenion. Then he turned to Moralfien. "I love romantic stories. Unfortunately, we cannot stay to hear more about Nimrodel's romance. Moralfien, I am carrying a message for you from the King." He tapped the pocket of his tunic. "Lord Legolas and I were just going to ask Galasserch to help us deliver it. Lucky that we found you so easily. Shall we?" He gestured for her to precede him away from the group.

Moralfien ignored the gesture. "A message from the King?" she repeated, still smiling, and held out her hand.

Galithil's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes. And he requires a response. I will wait for it. Would you prefer to write it in your own talan or in Lord Dolgailon's office?"

Moralfien's expression grew shuttered. "My own," she replied, the false warmth gone from her tone.

"Lead the way and we will accompany you," Galithil said. Then he turned to the group of elves. "It was a pleasure to meet all of you. Perhaps after our business is concluded we can rejoin you to hear more of that song."

The other elves, minus Eglennil and Bronil, stood and bowed as Galithil and Legolas moved to follow Moralfien. Eglennil exchanged a cold glance with the village leader as she walked away.

* * *

Legolas and Galithil followed the swift pace Moralfien set across the village courtyard and down one of the paths into the forest, presumably to her talan. The further they walked into the trees, the more closely Galuauth followed them. Indeed, they had walked far enough that Legolas was considering asking Moralfien where she was going. He was at least going to ask Galithil if it was normal for the villagers' talans to be set so far back into the forest, but from his cousin's expression, it was clear that he did not think it normal. Legolas drew a breath to suggest Moralfien deliver her response to Dogailon's talan-he did not want to earn Tulus's wrath for going too far into the forest-when they finally came upon a set of stairs leading up into a tall, stout tree.

Moralfien stood to one side of them. "After you, my lords," she said.

Legolas nodded to her and started up the stairs along with Galithil. Before Galuauth could follow, she stepped in front of him. "Wait here," she said.

Legolas looked over his shoulder at the guard. Galuauth put a foot on the first stair, as if he would refuse to be left behind. Then he hesitated, looked at Legolas and Galithil a long moment, studied the surrounding trees very carefully and finally turned to stand facing the forest at the foot of the stairs. This was the village leader's talan, after all. What harm could come to his charges in her company?

Legolas continued up the stairs and through the door Moralfien held open for him. Her talan was very simple, like the talan's and cottages of most of his friends. In fact, it was even more sparsely furnished than most. It did contain one elaborate tapestry of two trees, one silver and one gold. Were those the Two Trees? Legolas wondered. A tapestry decorating any villager's home was very unusual, much less one on such a strange subject. Perhaps he was wrong and they just happened to be two lovely, brightly colored trees.

"You had a letter for me from the King," Moralfien asked sharply, interrupting Legolas's thoughts.

Galithil nodded and pulled a sealed letter from his pocket.

Moralfien reached for it and without another word or glance, she walked across the room to a desk and sat down to read.

"My brother said that he did not think you were Silvan," Galithil commented as Moralfien read. "Given your reaction to Maenil's song about Nimrodel, I would have guessed you were indeed Silvan. But seeing this, I suppose not," he said, stepping closer to the tapestry to inspect it. "Finest quality," he observed, studying the weave. "Nearly as fine as those the Queen makes. Who wove it?"

Moralfien looked up from the letter and her fixed smile returned. "I did, thank you. You have given me a great compliment, I am sure, saying my work is nearly as fine as the Queen's. And I am certainly not Silvan. Your lord brother is correct." She pulled a pen from the desk and uncapped her ink.

"The king says he does not know you though," Legolas ventured to ask. Even without hearing her comments about Nimrodel, this elleth's demeanor struck him as very odd.

She shook her head as she began to write. "I know him, of course. Everyone who lived in Doriath knew the lords of the House of Thingol. Very outspoken in court, they were. Not your adar, of course. He was too young and only had just begun to serve the court when Menegroth fell. But your daeradar Oropher, he was influential in Doriath. Oropher did not know me either, but he knew my brother. Knew him well enough to recommend him to the High King." She continued writing her response to Thranduil between pauses in this monologue, her pen strokes growing ever more flourishing with each pause. "Yes, Oropher knew my brother. So when Oropher and Thranduil came east, I followed them. Not as far as this forest, originally, but I followed them."

"So you are from Lorien," Galithil said when she did not continue. "Dolgailon thought you might be from there."

Moralfien made no response to that. She simply continued writing.

"Did you learn to weave in Lothlorien?" Legolas asked. "The Queen began her study of weaving in Lothlorien, before coming here and learning from my daernaneth."

Moralfien waved her pen at the tapestry dismissively. "I learned to weave long ago, though it interests me very little. I prefer gem work. Of course, there is no gem work in this forest."

"You might ask the King for some of the emeralds that were mined when the stronghold was built," Legolas suggested. That earned him Moralfien's interest, signified by a single raised eyebrow. "He still has a very large quantity of them. They are not high quality. A challenge to cut, from what very little I understand of it. But if you can cut them, or at least set them in some attractive way that will make them more valuable for trade, I am certain the King would place great worth on that skill." He paused. "Did you use your gem work to trade with the dwarves for the swords you gave to the village warriors?" he asked with a light tone.

Moralfien's smile grew openly mocking. "Yes, I did. Of course, I know that the King does not allow such trade, but I value the safety of this village more than I value his rules. And the gems were mine to use as I chose. You may tell him I said that when you tell him about the swords. You may also tell him that the people of this village support my sacrifice and appreciate it. Greatly."

Legolas nodded. "It is not my place to make any judgments about foreign trade, but I will pass your message on to him."

Moralfien again made no response to that. Instead, she reached with one hand for the candle on her desk. With the other, she picked up her sealing wax. "The King sent you to our village with only the Queen's father? No one else is with you? Or coming after you?"

Legolas frowned. What could be the meaning of that question?

"Lord Dolgailon is not available to manage the dwarves or the elves from Lothlorien," Galithil responded. "I am his younger brother. The King sent me to manage them. I apologize for not coming to introduce myself to you sooner, but Lord Amglaur was anxious to find out what was happening in Lothlorien and in Hadhodrond. He was worried about his people, so we looked first for that information. We meant no slight to you. I apologize if we have offended you."

That brought a genuine smile to Moralfien's lips. "You are well mannered, Lord Galithil, but I understand your urgency so no offense has been given." She stood and handed him the sealed letter. "Forgive me, but if I recall correctly the year of celebrations for your birth, you are not yet of age. Either of you," she said, glancing at Legolas.

Galithil shook his head. "We are not, but we have served the court for many years, just the same."

Moralfien nodded. "It is most appropriate for a King's sons to serve and learn in his court and you have clearly learned well. Tell me, Lord Galithil, since your brother apparently has little interest in this, your father's village, will you show it more attention when you come of age?"

Galithil shot Legolas a startled glance. "I will serve where ever the King expects me to serve, my lady," he replied.

Moralfien put a hand on Galithil's shoulder to lead him to the door. "And perhaps that service will be here. If so, I look forward to getting to know you and your betrothed wife much better. In fact, if the King will send me one of the emeralds Lord Legolas spoke of, I will work it into a wedding gift for you. Perhaps a ring." She held out her hand to display a gold ring set with a small sapphire. " I am quite skilled at making rings. It would be lovely, I promise you. Perhaps you might even do me the honor of using it as your wedding ring. Or, if the emerald is large enough, I could cut it flat and engrave your seal on it. I will write the King to ask about it. Good evening." She held open the door of her talan.

"Good evening," Legolas and Galithil replied.

Legolas stepped out the door all too eagerly.

"A wedding gift! Your wedding ring, no less! How wonderful," he whispered when they were half way down the stairs. "Good luck finding a polite way to refuse that offer. And I pity you should adar or Dolgailon expect you to manage this village with this elleth as an advisor when we come of age."

Galithil laughed, but quickly sobered. "I do not like her. And I can see why Dolgailon has no interest in being here. But perhaps he should."

"The troop commander is needed at the stronghold, to advise the king," Legolas responded.

Galithil shrugged. "Adar was the realm's troop commander and he lived in this village before I was born. But regardless, this village needs a different leader one way or another, given what we have seen here in one short day."

Legolas could not disagree with that.

* * *

Legolas and Galithil climbed the steps of Dolgailon's talan, pleased to have discharged all the duties they had been given in the village. Dolgailon, Aradunnon, Celonhael and Golwon had all said at least once that the villages in the south were much harder to manage. Galithil and Legolas had even overheard Dolgailon confess to Arthiel, after swearing her to secrecy, that he hated trying to manage the elves in his village-this village. Both Legolas and Galithil understood that a little better now and they were happy to retreat into the talan. At least they were happy for a brief moment, until the sitting room door flew open.

"Where have you been?" Amglaur demanded, rushing into the corridor.

"It is after dark," Hurion said, speaking over Amglaur and nearly walking on his heals. "You promised Thranduil and us that you would be in this talan by nightfall. I would have come looking for you, but then there would be no one guarding Lord Amglaur."

Amglaur scowled at the guard. "Bother that," he said. "Did you speak to those dwarves? Did they tell you anything useful?"

Legolas and Galithil looked between Amglaur and Hurion with wide eyes.

"They were both with me the entire time," Galuauth said calmly in reply to Hurion's temper. "Perfectly safe and performing the duties the King charged them with."

"We delivered the King's message to Moralfien and got her reply in return," Galithil elaborated. Then he turned to Amglaur "And yes, we spoke to the dwarves. One of them is Nis, Durin's ambassador to this realm. She recognized us and told us in detail what happened in Hadhodrond."

Amglaur openly sagged in relief and reached for Galithil and Legolas's arms to pull them into the sitting room. "Come tell me what..." he stumbled to a stop and focused on Galithil. "She, did you say? Nis is female? I have met Nis, and I would not have guessed that." He shook his head. "Regardless, tell me what she said. I have barely restrained myself from going to speak with them. I only managed not to because I know...well, I doubt that I would handle the conversation well and I did not want to ruin your chance of getting information from them. But I need to know what threatens my realm. Tell me what she said," he repeated, pushing Galithil and Legolas onto a couch in the sitting room and settling himself on a footstool in front of them.

Legolas bit his lip to keep from laughing at his grandfather's impatience. He knew the reason for it was not funny-Amglaur had clearly already thought about the fact that the dwarves knew what he most needed to know, just as Legolas and Galithil had discussed would eventually occur to him, Still, the fact that even Amglaur recognized that he was not the best person to speak to the dwarves, as Legolas and Galithil had also said, was a little funny.

Galithil related everything that Nis had told them and Amglaur listened intensely and without interruption.

When Galithil finished, Amglaur regarded him silently for a long moment, his expression not betraying his reaction. Then he erupted from the stool and loosed a groan that was almost a roar. "Leave it to dwarves," he said, "to delve too greedily and too deep. The Valar only know what manner of Morgoth's minions they have unleashed on us now. And then, if you please, they flee and leave it to the rest of us to tidy up their mess. Despicable."

As before, when they were speaking about Hadhodrond with Maenil and Pauron, Legolas refrained from making any response, but he could not understand his grandfather's assumptions. Nis had said that their miners had tried to close up the shaft where Durin's Bane had emerged, despite the promising vein of mithril within it. Galithil had told Amglaur that as part of his narrative. That did not sound 'too greedy' in Legolas's mind. And the dwarves did work through two kings trying to tidy up their own mess. That seemed to be a good effort. But he did not think pointing out either of those facts would be particularly helpful at the moment.

Amglaur snorted out loud. "And how kind of this dwarf to point out that mithril armor is the only armor to withstand this evil. I will just put on my mithril armor right now." He looked about himself with mock dismay. "Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten to pack it," he exclaimed sarcastically. "The only mithril I have ever even seen since the First Age are those rings Oropher made for himself and Dieneryn and Thranduil. Where he obtained even that small amount is a mystery to me. There is no hope I can fight such a creature. When I left Lorien-and that was only forty years ago-Amroth's guards were armed largely with bows. They do not even have the swords that Thranduil has managed to accumulate here."

Legolas's eyebrows went up despite his best efforts not to react. That lack of armaments sounded very short sighted. "Nis did say Durin's Bane showed no interest in leaving the mountain. Maybe, like a dragon, it will be content to sit on its new hoard and it will leave Lorien alone," he suggested.

"Durin's Bane!" Amglaur scoffed. "And the bane of many elves as well it seems, since this evil thing has drawn more evil things to it. Even if it stays in that cursed mine, which is unlikely given the orcs trying to stir it up, the orcs themselves will continue to attack Lorien now that they see it is weakened. I will be facing the same sorts of attacks this forest has seen." He paced over to the sitting room balcony and flung open the curtain. "They will bring the same sort of decay that this forest has suffered," he snapped a dead twig off the sad tree that held the talan, threw it on the floor and stepped on it. As he did, he glanced at Galithil and Legolas's grave expressions and his anger seemed to evaporate. "I apologize," he said, walking back over to them and reaching to ruffle their hair. Then he stopped himself with a rueful smile. "I suppose that if you are old enough to be delivering war councils to me, if you are old enough to be representing your king to foreign powers, you are too old to be patted on the head."

Galithil and Legolas returned his smile appreciatively. Galithil's smile did not entirely hide the sympathy in his eyes and Legolas doubted his did either. They had been listening to Amglaur's stories of the beauty of Lothlorien since they were infants. The sorry state of southern forest disturbed Legolas deeply. He easily understood how Amglaur was feeling at the prospect of Lothlorien facing the same fate.

"Are you too old to give me a hug?" Amglaur asked softly. "I will miss you when I go to Lorien."

Both Legolas and Galithil stood and wrapped their arms around Amglaur. "We will miss you too," they both said.

Amglaur returned the embrace.

"How I wish I could take you both and Lindomiel..." He shook slightly with laughter. "I would even like to take Thranduil to Lorien with me. When it is safe again, of course. Lorien is a beautiful forest." He stepped back to look at them. "I promised once to take you there. Do you remember?"

Legolas and Galithil nodded. Legolas remembered that conversation. He remembered listening his grandfather's stories while sitting in the forest wrapped safely in his arms. Those memories were a far cry from discussing with him the current threats against Lothlorien. Legolas's heart contracted painfully at the contrast.

"Do not doubt that I will keep that promise, still," Amglaur continued. "When it is safe again for you to travel to Lorien, I will see to it that Thranduil allows you to visit me." Amglaur smiled. A mischievous smile. "I will insist that Thranduil send you both to negotiate with Lorien. I will accept no other emissary from Eryn Galen. You may tell him that."

Despite themselves, Legolas and Galithil giggled. "Forgive us if we do not," Legolas replied.

Amglaur grinned at him and pulled him back into an embrace. "I am very angry with these dwarves. They have deprived me of my right to see my grandsons grow into adulthood. He reached for Galithil, and put an arm around him as well. "I look on you as my grandson every bit as much as I do Legolas. You know that, I hope."

Galithil nodded without looking at Amglaur. "I would tell you something if you promise to try to take it in the spirit it is intended and not to be offended," he whispered, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.

"I promise, pen neth," Amglaur replied automatically, tightening his arm around Galithil.

"You remind me so much of my adar," Galithil whispered. "Sometimes, I could almost forget my adar was gone when you did things with Legolas and I." He paused. "I know you do not want to be likened to anyone in the House of Oropher," he said with a bit of a laugh. "But you and adar are so much alike."

Legolas suddenly found himself breathing deeply in an effort not to lose control. He had known his cousin felt that way, but somehow hearing it said out loud made it too real. It was beyond unfair that Galithil was losing someone again.

Amglaur released them and then grasped Galithil's shoulders, holding him at arms length. "I will tell you a secret, Galithil-both of you, of course," he said, looking at Legolas, "if you give me your word that you will tell no one. Not your cousins or friends or Lindomiel. Not any of your aunts or uncles and especially not your Uncle Thranduil."

Legolas's eyes widened.

Amglaur smiled at them. "It is not a secret that could possibly endanger this realm's security or hurt your adar, so you are safe to make that promise," he said, now looking mischievous again.

"I will tell no one," Galithil promised quickly.

"Nor will I," Legolas added.

Amglaur sat on the couch. His gaze seemed to focus on another place. Or time. "I do not mind being likened to Oropher. Oropher is the best friend I ever had in the world," he said quietly.

Legolas and Galithil stared at him, frank disbelief their face, certain Amglaur must be joking with them.

"Oropher and I did everything together. We were the leaders of the Wolf Pack," Amglaur said, smiling again at the memory. "No one else could approach our skill at whatever we put our heads to. Even Celeborn thought we were rivals, and we may have acted that way at times, but between the two of us, we knew it was just fun. Only a game."

"Wolf Pack?" Galithil asked. It was the sort of reference Galithil would be unable to resist trying to learn more about.

"The Wolf Pack is how the High King referred to us," Amglaur explained. "The Wolf Pack was your daeradar Oropher and great uncle Engwe, Amdir and myself, and Celeborn and Galathil. And Oropher and I-most of the trouble we all got into stemmed from one of our ideas. But our greatest ideas-including returning east, to the Silvan-those were our ideas too. Mine and Oropher's."

Legolas shook his head. "Then why do you give adar such a hard time about the House of Oropher?" he exclaimed.

"Because my daughter, your naneth, married into it!" Amglaur shot back quickly. "One might run with wolves oneself, but that does not mean one wants one's daughter running with them also! You will understand that if you have a daughter of your own one day," he answered laughing. Then he sobered. "And Oropher and I may have finally had a few fallings out. I did not particularly approve of some of his decisions in raising Thranduil. I definitely did not approve when he moved the people of this forest away from Amon Lanc precisely when Celeborn-and granted that Noldorin wife of his-moved to Eregion. Celeborn so close again, after so much time. We should have all been reunited again, but Oropher had to move." Amglaur sighed. "I do not entirely disagree with his reasoning for doing so, but still I was bitter because I had so hoped we could all work together again, each of us in our own realms." He looked back at them. "The point is: I am not offended by being likened to Oropher. You need influences like him to keep you merry, especially in times such as this. I will be writing Celonhael to make sure he fills that role for you from now on, though he is not the wolf Oropher and I were, and so will be a poor substitute." This last was accompanied by the return of the mischievous grin.

Galithil burst into laughter, shaking his head. "I cannot believe the High King nicknamed you and daeradar wolves. I can only imagine what Uncle Thranduil would say if anyone labeled Legolas and I in such a way."

"Alas, it may not happen without my influence. A pity," Amglaur replied, still grinning.

"And so Galithil and I might survive to grow into adulthood," Legolas countered.

Amglaur laughed as well and drew both Legolas and Galithil to him again, placing a kiss on each of their foreheads. Then he fixed them with a stern look. "Legolas, always remember this-and now I am speaking seriously, giving both of you the last advice I will be able to give you for a very long time: your grandparents, Oropher and I, brought our families here to escape the grief Morgoth and Sauron seek to impose upon this world. Do anything you can, anything you must, to oppose that grief. I do not deny that includes fighting the Shadow with swords. But it also means making merry. Indeed, sometimes, especially in the darkest of times, merrymaking is all that gives us the strength to continue the fight. Remember that and be the wolves your daeradars Oropher and Amglaur would be proud of."

Legolas and Galithil nodded. "We will, daeradar," Legolas said softly.

"When will you leave?" Galithil added, his voice once again rough.

"In my message to Thranduil, I asked him to send an escort for both of you to take you back to the stronghold. I will leave directly once it arrives." He forced a smile to his face. "So we have at least three days to secure your position as wolves here in this village. First impressions are so important, after all, so we should be able to accomplish a great deal."

Galithil laughed again, this time nervously, and shook his head.

* * *

Tulus walked back into the village, past the music in the courtyard. He could not help but to smile at it, glad to see that even this far south the elves still danced. If everything the warriors of the southern patrol had told him was accurate, these villagers had reason to celebrate. He had lived in the south for many years and had never gone an entire season in his village without fighting orcs. It was a good year here, apparently. He also would not have had a sword as a village guard if he had not been allowed to take his sword with him when he was dismissed from Thranduil's service. He could envision the King's reaction when he heard the village leader here had traded with dwarves for swords, but in this instance, he strongly disagreed with the King. If this village leader could provide swords, then she should be allowed to do it.

Scanning the revelers as he walked, four figures on the far side of the courtyard caught Tulus's attention. Two of them had their back to him. One was an elleth and the other an ellon. But the two facing him...it was Dannenion and Dolwon. Tulus scowled. What were they doing in this village? He turned away from his march to Dolgailon's in order to speak to them and when he did, Dannenion noticed him. He openly tensed and said something swiftly to the elleth and ellon. Both nodded and walked away, without turning.

Tulus's scowl deepened.

Dannenion and Dolwon waved to him and started toward him, but Tulus continued watching the elleth and ellon. Just as their forms were dissolving into shadows amongst the trees, the elleth glanced over her shoulder.

Tulus froze. It could not be.

"Stop!" he yelled, pointing at her, and he broke into a full run, straight through the lines of dancing elves. He ran, dodging past Dannenion and Dolwon, ignoring the questions they shouted after him, and down the path the elleth and ellon had followed. He followed it a few dozen strides, but no one came into view. He doubled his speed and ran a dozen more paces. Then he stopped and turned around, looking back into the trees. He retraced his steps, searching swiftly in the tree branches and amongst the trunks on either side of the path for the elleth or any sign of where she might have gone-a nearly impossible task on the heavily used path. He saw nothing.

When he reached the head of the path, Dannenion and Dolwon were still there, looking at him as if he had lost his mind.

"What is the matter, Tulus?" Dannenion asked with all apparent innocence.

Tulus seized him roughly by the arm and shoved him against a tree. "Was that her?" he demanded.

Dannenion struggled in his grasp. "Turn me loose at once, Tulus. What do you think you are doing?"

"You know exactly what I am doing," Tulus replied, tightening his grasp and leaning into Dannenion's face. "Answer me or answer to the King. Was that her?"

"Her who?" Dannenion asked back.

Tulus narrowed his eyes. "Manadhien? Was that her that you were speaking to?"

Dannenion affected a shocked expression. "Manadhien? That was a villager. Only a villager and her brother. The friends I am visiting here."

Tulus loosed a long breath. He still held Dannenion's arm, but he took a step back. "Villagers?" he repeated.

"Yes, Tulus. Do not be a fool. Thranduil finally allows me to travel and you think the first thing I would do is meet with the person who caused me to be held under arrest for forty years. How stupid do you think I am? And of all the villages in this forest, Manadhien is going to live right here in Dolgailon's village? How stupid do you think she is that she would take such a risk? Thranduil still wants her arrested, you know."

Tulus released him with a shove. "I am aware he wants her arrested, yes. And how stupid do I think you both are? I think you are as stupid as a rock, Dannenion, and Manadhien is even stupider. But her actions did not get you arrested. Your own actions did that. As did mine." He took another step back. "But, if that was indeed simply a villager, I apologize."

"As well you should," Dannenion replied, lifting his chin and shaking his tunic back into place. Without another word, he stepped around Tulus and pulled Dolwon away with him.

Tulus looked down the path after them. The villagers here are very adapt at disappearing, he thought. Then he turned back in the direction of Dolgailon's talan, ignoring the curious stares of the dancers in the courtyard.

* * *

"I do not think we dare approach more closely, my lord," Colloth whispered.

"There is nothing more to learn," Galudiron agreed. "Hadhodrond is over run. There is no doubt about it. And there is certainly nothing we can do about it."

Dolgailon stared at the stone path below them through the needles of the fir trees that sheltered them. Even in the waning sunlight, orcs skittered from boulder to boulder along the path, cowering in the shadows and snarling at the light.

Dolgailon disagreed that there was nothing more to learn here. For example, he simply could not imagine how these orcs had managed to successfully attack the dwarvish stronghold and he wanted to understand how they did that very badly. Any attack they had used on Hadhodrond would certainly succeed against the stronghold he was charged to defend. But he could not deny that his guards were completely correct that there was no possibility he would risk getting any closer to the Dimrill Gate. He drew a breath to concede, but before he could speak, he froze and leaned forward instead.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing at a shadow a good distance away amongst the scattered trees on the side of the path.

It did not scurry like a rat. It moved carefully. Purposefully. They watched it until it reached a position half way between the copse of trees they were hiding in and the foot of the path to the Dimrill Gate. Then it disappeared into a denser growth of firs. When Dolgailon again detected motion, there were three more shadows accompanying the first. Dolgailon and his guards silently studied the shadows as they moved closer. Though cloaked, one of them wore something bright that flickered when caught in the fading light.

Without warning, a meadow lark called, shrill and clear. The nearest orcs screeched in surprise and turned in circles, searching for origin of the noise. Dolgailon started badly enough to nearly fall from the tree. He spun to face the guard that was supposed to keep him safe.

"What in all of Arda do you think you are doing?" he hissed.

Colloth did not reply. He only continued to watch the shadows. At Colloth's call, they froze and crouched closer to the ground, but one of them leaned around the trunk that hid him and peered at the copse of trees. Silver glinted in the sunlight. Colloth made the call again. The shadows began moving again, more swiftly, directly towards Colloth.

"I hope you know what you are doing," Galudiron whispered. As he spoke, he drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it against his bowstring.

Colloth waved his hand at him. "They are elves," he whispered. "Or at least three of them are. Noble elves, unless I am mistaken," he added in response to everyone's raised eyebrows. "Did you not see the one has silver hair? Only the High King's kin have such a hair color. I am not yet certain who the fourth person is. A man, it appears."

Galudiron, Ostarndor and Morillion glanced at Dolgailon's silver-gold hair and then turned to watch the approaching shadows, arrows still at the ready.

Within moments, the four shadows dashed from the shelter of their copse of trees, along a series of rocks near the path and then into the copse of trees where Dolgailon and his guards hid. Dolgailon's eyes widened. Colloth was right. Three of them were elves and one of them had hair even more purely silver than his father's had been. The other two were dark-haired, like most Silvan elves, but they were strikingly similar in appearance. The fourth person appeared to be an old man. Dolgailon's jaw dropped as realization dawned. Even as it did, the silver elf leapt easily into the trees, signaling for his companions to follow him. The two elves did. The man stayed on the ground, his gray cloak disappearing into the shadows.

"Colloth?" the silver elf asked, his gaze settling on the guard.

Colloth smiled at him. "My lord Celeborn," he replied, bowing as well as he could while crouching on the branch. "What an odd place for us to meet again."

Celeborn returned his smile wryly. "Indeed." His gaze turned to Dolgailon. "And you are related to Thranduil unless I am very much mistaken, but too old to be his son. Legolas would not yet be of age, if I remember correctly."

"I am Dolgailon Aradunnonion," Dolgailon replied automatically, trying not to stare at the elf before him, though he knew he was failing in that endeavor. He never expected to meet anything but enemies when he followed the orcs onto the plain. He would be a little over-awed to meet such a venerable elf-one he had learned about in lessons as a child-even if he were meeting that elf in his uncle's court. Meeting him here, in the middle of a recent battle ground, was completely unexpected. But then, if the Woodland Realm had noticed signs worth investigating on their borders, it stood to reason that Imladris might have noticed similar signs.

"I am Elrohir," one of the dark-haired elves said, interrupting Dolgailon's thoughts and confirming his suspicions. "This is my brother Elladan and that," he pointed to the old man, "is Mithrandir. Now that we are all properly introduced, shall we be moving along? It would be wise to put as much distance as possible between us and the Gate before nightfall."

"An excellent suggestion," Galudiron readily agreed.

That comment jerked Dolgailon's mind back to the reason he was here. "How closely did you approach the Dimrill Gate," he asked. "What did you see there?"

"We got within sight of it," Celeborn replied. "It is held by orcs. There are signs of battle between the orcs and the dwarves, but no evidence of a battle or siege large or long enough to capture a stronghold like Hadhodrond. Our guess is that the dwarves abandoned Hadhodrond, but we saw no signs to explain why they would do such a thing."

Dolgailon frowned. What could possibly make the dwarves abandon a mithril mine? iThe/i mithril mine. Their kind had dwelt and worked there for all the Ages of the world. It made no sense, but if Celeborn had seen the Gate and still had seen no answers, then at least Dolgailon could turn away from the idea of approaching it himself with no regrets.

"What brought you here, if I may ask?" Dolgailon asked, while beginning to move through the trees. Perhaps Imladris had heard or seen something more that might be useful.

"We heard rumors from the Dunadain that a few large groups of dwarves-apparently refugees-were on the East-West Road, traveling to the Ered Luin," Elladan said. "The dwarves would say nothing, apparently, except that they had fled Hadhodrond. That concerned our adar and daernaneth, so we agreed to go investigate. What brought you here? Are the dwarves turning up in Mirkwood also?"

Dolgailon frowned at that name for the forest. "Not that I have seen, but we," he gestured at his companions, "have spent nearly the last month traveling in the southern forest, near Dol Guldur. We traveled here following orcs. They have been leaving the forest and traveling onto the plains in great numbers and we wanted to know what they were doing, in case it posed some new threat or design to attack the forest from a new vantage point." He looked back over his shoulder at Khazad-dum. "It appears the forest is not their target. Just the same, I need to get back home to report what we have seen at Dol Guldur and here to the King. He will certainly be alarmed that Hadhodrond has fallen. Dwarves make better neighbors than orcs."

"Even I will agree to that," Celeborn said.

"What of Lothlorien?" Mithrandir called from below them. "What news do you hear from there?

Dolgailon paused in his passage from branch to branch and looked down at the wizard. He shook his head. "We passed its borders when crossing the plain, but we did not encounter anyone from there." Even as he spoke, Dolgailon's brow furrowed. That was odd. If Imladris and the Woodland Realm were investigating the orcs around Khazad-dum, surely the closest elven realm to the mountain would be investigating them too. Unless they already had investigated or knew what had happened some other way. "Perhaps they know more in Lothlorien about what happened in Hadhodrond."

"If they do, it might be worthwhile to go speak to someone there," Galudiron suggested. "The King is going to want to know why Hadhodrond is crawling with orcs."

"Lord Amglaur is going to want to know why Hadhodrond is crawling with orcs," Colloth added. "He will find the idea of orcs so close to his home very alarming, I am certain.

Dolgailon nodded in response to that. "But I think we had best report what we know to the King without more delay. He might prefer to send Amglaur to deal with Lothlorien rather than us. Amglaur might prefer that as well." He found his gaze drawn eastward. "I think we had better return to the forest." Indeed, he suddenly felt the urge to hurry home. He began moving, more swiftly, through the firs.

"Amglaur is in Eryn Galen?" Celeborn asked.

"He is," Dolgailon confirmed.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you made sure he knew what has happened. And tell him that I am in Lothlorien, for that is where we will travel next," Celeborn said. "Amglaur and I are very old friends. He will definitely return to Lothlorien if he fears it is threatened, and I would like his aid to manage whatever we might find there."

"What do you fear that you will find that King Amroth cannot manage without aid?" Dolgailon asked, feeling a bit alarmed himself by Celeborn's words.

Celeborn shook his head. "We do not know. Galadriel felt strongly that something was amiss. Something serious. That is why we are here. Given that Hadhodrond has fallen, I would say that she is right. But she felt something was wrong in Lothlorien too."

"When we return to the forest, we will tell Amglaur what you have said," Dolgailon promised, and he said nothing more. He simply moved as quickly as he safely could through the trees.

Adar/ada - Father/dad

Naneth/nana - Mother/mum

Daeradar - grandfather

Daernaneth - grandmother

pen neth - young one


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The war that must inevitably come**

_In her wisdom Galadriel saw that Lórien would be a stronghold and point of power to prevent the Shadow from crossing the Anduin in the war that must inevitably come before it was again defeated (if that were possible)... _Unfinished Tales

Legolas, Galithil and Amglaur sat on the balcony of Dolgailon's talan, watching the evening's revelry in the village courtyard. Some of the elves below them were playing flutes or harps or drums. Some were singing. A great many were dancing to the music, flickering lantern light glinting off the embroidery on twirling gowns. And most were drinking the berry wine produced in the village. Legolas, and especially Galithil, would have preferred to participate in the merrymaking, but they had given their word to Thranduil, as a condition for coming to the village, that they would be inside the talan by nightfall. Not even Amglaur would countermand that order. It was just as well, Galithil tried to console himself. This way there was less of an opportunity for conflict to arise between the villagers and he and his cousin. Of course, Galithil had not seen Moralfien since the day they had delivered the King's letter, and neither had he seen Dannenion nor Dolwon. Without any of them, the potential for conflict was greatly reduced, but still, here they sat, spectators only, none-the-less.

Bored, and poorly satisfied with only watching the dancing, Galithil was considering going inside to look for something better to do when a commotion erupted in the courtyard. First, a few people on the northern side of the courtyard turned to look down the main path into the village. Then they began to call out, attracting more people's attention. Galithil could not distinguish what they were saying over the music, but soon a crowd had gathered on that side of the courtyard along either side of the path, a rising cheer drowning out the faltering music as they did.

Galithil, Legolas and Amglaur, exchanged a curious glance and stood along the railings of the balcony. Whoever approached, they were no threat. That much was certain from the villagers' reactions. But who it could be? Galithil suspected he knew the identity of at least one of the arrivals. The question in his mind-indeed the subject of the wager he and Legolas had privately made when Amglaur had sent his messenger to the stronghold-was who else might be coming.

They had little time to wonder before Conuion rode onto the village green.

From the corner of his eye, Galithil saw Amglaur take another step toward the railing.

Immediately after Conuion followed the King, his stallion cantering to the middle of the yard. Then Lindomiel and her mother, Limmiel, appeared, flanked by two additional guards.

"You win," Galithil said softly to Legolas. "I do your copying for two days when we get back to the stronghold." His cousin was trying to smother a grin. Galithil had known that was a foolish wager. He should not have accepted it.

Amglaur's fist came down on the railing. "When Thranduil sent a message for me to await an escort for myself to Lorien and for you to return to the stronghold, this was not the escort that I expected," he said angrily.

"It is the one I expected," Tulus muttered from where he stood in the entry to the balcony.

Amglaur looked over his shoulder, aiming a withering glare at the guard.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Tulus said quickly, looking down.

Legolas laughed. "It is the escort I expected as well, so be kind to Tulus, Daeradar."

Amglaur directed his scowl at his grandson.

Legolas only shrugged, still smiling. "Well, you did not expect to leave, permanently, to go to Lothlorien without giving Nana a chance to say goodbye to you, did you? And surely you did not think Daernaneth would stay here when you left?"

"Indeed, I did," Amglaur answered, spinning on his heel to leave the balcony. "In fact, I specifically said in the message that I sent with the courier that Thranduil should keep your daernaneth safe here until I send for her. The journey to Lorien will be far too dangerous for her to make now. Look at what happened to those dwarves."

"Even so, you will never convince her to stay," Legolas countered, following him. "And you have no hope of making her do it."

"But I will try, just the same," Amglaur said.

Galithil watched Legolas as he pursued his grandfather, still arguing with him. Then he moved to follow them himself, trying to keep his expression under control, but knowing he was not entirely successful. Watching Amglaur and Thranduil spar was exciting, regardless of the topic, and this occasion would be no different, he was sure. Moreover, he had never seen Amglaur argue with Lindomiel or Limmiel, but he had seen Lindomiel argue for what she wanted many times and he had never seen her lose. Lindomiel's naneth was likely to be equally adept at getting her way, no matter how determined Amglaur was to prevent it. This confrontation promised to be entertaining. He only hoped Amglaur would not bait Thranduil here as openly as he did at home. At that thought, he picked up his pace to catch up with Legolas and Amglaur.

By the time Galithil reached the foot of the stairs, Amglaur was already in the courtyard bowing to Thranduil as the King handed his horse over to one of the guards. Legolas was right behind his grandfather, also greeting his father with a bow. That gesture softened the guarded expression the King wore in response to Amglaur's openly irate posture. Lindomiel stepped forward, putting one arm around Legolas's shoulders and taking her father's hand in her free hand. She was smiling as she normally did, but there was a warning in her eyes aimed at her father. Galithil relaxed a little at that and stepped out into the courtyard to greet his uncle himself. As he did, the villagers began shouting questions at the King.

"What have the dwarves said that merits the personal attention of the King?" one shouted.

"Or is it the news Pauron and Maenil have delivered from Lorien that has brought you south, my lord?" called another.

"Is there news of something threatening us here?" an elleth asked. "Are you here to fight?"

Galithil hesitated on his way to join his family. Normally, Dolgailon would field these questions. Since he was not here, Thranduil was clearly debating whether to respond himself or look to Amglaur or one of the guards to do so. Conuion appeared distinctly unwilling to be distracted from his duty and Amglaur had eyes only for Thranduil and Limmiel. Galithil doubted that he had even registered the villagers' questions.

"He does not seem to be prepared for a battle," one of the village guards responded to the elleth's question.

Galithil squared his shoulders and walked to the edge of the crowd. "The King is not here for a battle," he said loudly enough to draw the villagers' attention. Of course Galithil did not know that for certain, but he was confident that if his uncle expected a battle, Lindomiel and Limmiel would not be present, so this was a safe assurance to make. He stood a little straighter as the villagers all turned to him. "He is simply here to escort Lady Limmiel and the Queen to the village," he continued. "Lord Amglaur and Lady Limmiel are returning to Lorien, given the news that Lorien's King has gone to the havens. And since Lord Amglaur cannot escort Legolas and I back to the stronghold, the King has come to for us himself."

From the corner of his eye, Galithil saw Amglaur was now addressing Thranduil. Somewhat forcefully. Thranduil, in turn, was only paying him half attention. The rest of his attention was focused on Galithil. He looked mildly surprised and Galithil could not tell if it was because of the way Amglaur was publicly speaking to him or if it was because Galithil had stepped forward to manage the villagers' questions.

"Lord Amglaur is going to claim lordship over Lorien?" someone asked, pulling Galithil's attention back to the villagers. It was one of the villagers that had not been shy about criticizing Sindar rule when Maenil was singing that song about Nimrodel.

Galithil made no sign of remembering this elf's attitude. He only nodded. "Lord Amglaur is Amroth's uncle, King Amdir's brother. With Lord Amroth gone, it is Amglaur's duty to return to Lorien to organize their defense however its people deem best."

The elf made a bitter face, glanced at Thranduil, and obviously thought better of making any further comment in the present company.

"But Pauron said orcs are attacking Lorien," another villager said. "And apparently there are not enough warriors to defend the prople there. What can Lord Amglaur do alone? Will Lord Thranduil send warriors from this realm to aid Lorien?"

Galithil faced that elf, but said nothing. That was not a question he could answer. Amglaur had asked Pauron if Amroth would want aid from Eryn Galen. He had said he would approach Thranduil to ask for aid. But once he had learned that Amroth had left Lorien, Amglaur never again mentioned asking for aid. His attention was focused on more fundamental problems and Galithil had no idea if Thranduil would grant the aid, even if asked.

"I have cousins in Lorien," an elleth standing nearby Galithil said. "I would take my bow and help Lord Amglaur defend Lorien if it came to that."

"So would I," one of the village guards said.

"The King and Lord Amglaur have a great deal to discuss before Lord Amglaur and Lady Limmiel leave for Lorien," Galithil finally answered, in an effort to shut down this line of questions before it got out of hand, while at the same time avoiding promising anything in Thranduil's name. "I am certain they will both address such concerns before Lord Amglaur leaves."

He jumped slightly when an arm fell across his shoulders.

"Indeed we will," Thranduil said. "But it would be helpful to know if willingness to aid Lorien is a widespread sentiment. Would I, if asked, be able to muster military support for Lorien?"

A chorus of 'yes, my lords' arose from many of the elves and ellyth in the crowd.

"Thank you," Thranduil and Amglaur said together. "As Lord Galithil said," Thranduil continued, "I will be certain to inform you all of the decisions Lord Amglaur and I make before I leave." He turned to Galithil. "Is Moralfien here? Can you introduce her to me, please?"

Galithil scanned the crowd again quickly while shaking his head. "She is not here, my lord," Galithil answered.

"She left the village shortly after Lord Galithil arrived," Seregon volunteered, his voice openly scornful. "Family business, she said. In another village to the east."

"I will meet her some other time then, I suppose," Thranduil said, studying Seregon's expression. "Pity." Then he steered Galithil in the direction Amglaur was walking with Limmiel and Lindomiel, towards Dolgailon's talan. "You managed that well," he said in a soft voice leaning over slightly to speak in Galithil's ear. "Just as your adar would have done for me. I can always count on you and Dolgailon and I appreciate that greatly."

Galithil could not help but swell with pride at being compared to his father and older brother.

"She said it appeared to be made of fire itself," Galithil said. He was speaking to Thranduil, but Lindomiel and Limmiel were also at the table. Both ladies had their hands over their mouths. Amglaur put one arm around his wife's shoulders and reached to pat Lindomiel's arm. "And it stood as tall as the talans in the trees here."

"She said no one had any idea what is was, but she seemed quite certain it was not merely a dragon," Legolas added softly.

Then he and Galithil elaborated, relating the details Nis had given them about the dwarves' battles with Durin's Bane.

Even Thranduil's eyes widened in response to that story.

"She said it did not appear interested in leaving Hadhodrond," Galithil concluded. "It never pursued them outside the Gates. But she did say orcs were attacking Hadhodrond from without. Indeed, it sounded as if they had taken it altogether. Durin was killed. So was his son, Nain. It is Thrain, Nain's son that now rules the Dwarves and he is taking them to the Ered Mithrim."

When Galithil stopped speaking, Thranduil let out a long breath and waited a moment to see if either Legolas or Galithil had anything more to add. When they did not, he nodded silently and turned a grave look on Amglaur. "To say that this is a dire development is an understatement. It is a dire development that has arisen far too close to either of our realms." He shook his head. "I have never heard of such a creature. Do you have any idea what it could be?"

"None," Amglaur replied. "I have been thinking about little else since first hearing this news myself. The only creatures I have ever heard of that wield fire as a natural weapon are dragons, but dragons are not made of fire." He paused and glanced at the ellyth and the children. "Balrogs were made of fire," he said quietly. "So I have heard. The only battle I fought where we faced balrogs was the War of Wrath. I saw the damage they did in that war, but not the creatures themselves. Did you see them?"

Thranduil quickly shook is head. "Never. This could not be a balrog. They were all destroyed during that war. We never even saw them in Mordor." He paused, studying Amglaur's face to try to determine if he agreed. "It must be some new sort of evil," he concluded firmly.

Amglaur shrugged. "Whatever it is, I do not have mithril armor or weaponry. I can only hope that Nis is correct and this evil, whatever it may be, stays in Hadhodrond."

Thranduil leaned back in his chair, frowning. He did not want to base the safety of his realm on the hope that this creature would stay put. Long experience had taught him, with very harsh lessons, that evil never remained idle when easy prey waited passively to be claimed. He knew Amglaur's experiences were the same as his own. He also knew Amglaur was right-like Lorien, Eryn Galen did not have mithril armor or weaponry. Wooden arrows would not defend this forest or its people from a creature of fire. But more importantly, he did not believe that this creature arose in Hadhodrond, so close to Dol Guldur, by mere coincidence. This was a purposeful maneuver of the Enemy. An attempt to grasp for strength and position. And it was a successful one. Whatever else Thranduil thought of dwarves, their stronghold helped fortify the Hithaeglir and keep all of Rhovanian safer. He would rather have them for neighbors than orcs and dragons or worse things.

He looked back at Amglaur. "We need to get this information to Elrond and to Cirdan." He paused. "We need to get it to Fengel in Dale and Earnil in Gondor."

Amglaur snorted. "You run to Men and the Noldor about the plight of the dwarves. My greatest concerns fall more along the lines of whether I should try to convince the people remaining in Lorien to stay or to flee; if they stay, how will I defend them given that they have not been able to defend themselves until now; and if they flee, to where should I lead them? Here? The Havens?" He shook his head. "No. I do not have time for Men and the Noldor."

Thranduil's brows drew together. "It is not my place to advise you on how to rule your own realm, Amglaur, but I will say this: we will unite together or we will fall to the Enemy one by one. If you expect Men and Dwarves and Elves to stand with you when the time comes, sharing information, at times like these, is very little to ask." He waved Amglaur silent when his father-in-law's expression contorted bitterly. "I will see to it that this information is brought to Imladris and Dale. Imladris and Dale will deliver it to Mithlond and Gondor. And I will also send warriors with you to Lorien if you ask it of me. You saw yourself that the people here are anxious to aid their kin in Lorien. I only ask that you wait long enough for me to find Dolgailon and consult him before I pull warriors to accompany you."

Amglaur looked away. "I cannot ask you to send anyone now. I do not even know what I will find in Lorien. Let me go there and see what has happened. I will send a messenger when I know more. For now, I would appreciate enough warriors to see me there safely-perhaps five or six to accompany me?"

Thranduil nodded. "That I had already planned to do, of course. Surely one of the village guards can find one of the patrols. We will ask warriors from it to go with you."

"One of the Southern Patrol's lieutenants checks in with this village every morning at dawn, my lord," Galithil said, drawing Thranduil's attention. "You can leave a message with them to have however many warriors you want to come to the village."

"Have them meet us on the border rather than coming here," Amglaur said. "I am leaving at dawn myself for Lorien. I have waited long enough."

"There will be warriors already stationed directly between this village and the border," Galithil said. "You can use those and tell the lieutenant to bring more in from elsewhere. Or send village guards to patrol the path to the border until more warriors can relieve them there."

"Village guards would not be adequately armed for patrolling the forest border," Thranduil replied. He raised an eyebrow in question when Legolas, Galithil and Amglaur all exchanged a uncomfortable glance in response to that comment.

"The village guards in this village are all armed with dwarven swords," Legolas said quietly without looking at his father.

Thranduil's mouth fell open slightly. "I beg your pardon, Legolas. What did you say?" he asked sharply.

"Thranduil," Lindomiel admonished. "Legolas did not give them the swords."

"Who did?" Thranduil demanded. "Dolgailon cannot arm his village with swords, but not offer equal treatment to other villages. And I cannot supply all the village guards with swords. This is unacceptable."

"Dolgailon did not give the guards the swords," Galithil said, quick to defend his brother. "Moralfien bought them."

Thranduil looked at Galithil, eyebrows raised.

Legolas nodded. "So said the village guards. When Galithil was delivering your message to her, I asked her if she had bought them and she confirmed she had. Moreover, she told me that I could tell you that she bought them with her own jewels. She said to tell you that she knows that you do not allow the villages to conduct foreign trade, but she values the safety of this village over your rules and the jewels were hers to use as she saw fit. She also said to tell you that many of the people in this village support and appreciate her sacrifice. Those are her words, my lord."

Thranduil felt the blood rising in his face. He also felt Lindomiel's hand grasp his lightly. "I am truly looking forward to meeting this Moralfien," he finally said, not trusting himself to say more.

"Despite her bold words, she is obviously looking forward to meeting you also, my lord, given the fact that she left the village immediately after responding to your letter," Galithil replied, his tone somewhat mocking. "She had to have guessed that you and Aunt Lindomiel would come to farewell Amglaur and Limmiel."

Thranduil snorted in laughter. "Too true." Then he shook his head and sobered. "You are leaving in the morning then?" he asked, looking at Amglaur.

Amglaur nodded. "I cannot allow Lorien to languish without leadership any longer."

"I understand, of course. I will do as Galithil suggests and ask the lieutenant to have the warriors at the border escort you. He can determine whether it will be best to call in other warriors or use the village guard temporarily to guard the forest border. I am certain he can also give us information about the security between here and the border and the plain outside it."

"Thank you," Amglaur replied.

"We will be ready to leave in the morning then," Limmiel said, standing and pulling Lindomiel up with her.

Amglaur's expression hardened instantly.

Thranduil looked at Lindomiel, confused. "You surely do not think you are going to Lorien with your adar?" he asked.

Lindomiel shook her head, "Of course not, Thranduil. Just to the forest edge, to fare him and naneth well."

Legolas and Galithil sat up straighter in response to that. "May we go also, adar?" Legolas asked.

"I saw the Southern Patrol's reports to this village for the last week, uncle," Galithil chimed in. "It would be safe for us to go. There has not been an orc or spider spotted anywhere, except in the southern-most portion of their range. Around this village, and between here and the border, it has been clear. They reported it to us since they learned that Amglaur was going to travel onto the plain from here. Tulus asked them to keep him informed."

Thranduil looked from Lindomiel to his son and nephew. He had no intention of allowing them to go to the forest border. They were going straight back to the stronghold. All of them. He clenched his jaw in response to Lindomiel's serene expression-it was the one she wore when she intended to simply do as she wished, no matter what anyone said to the contrary.

"No, you may not go," he said firmly. Ostensibly, he was replying to Legolas's question, but he had directed his statement to Lindomiel. "The southern realm is too dangerous for casual travel."

"They traveled safely all the way here," Lindomiel countered. "And it is less than half a day's travel to the border from here. If we leave at dawn, we will easily be back here before dusk. We each have a guard with us, both you and adar are experienced warriors and we will be meeting warriors from the Southern Patrol. I do not see how this can possibly be dangerous, Thranduil. I think we should allow the children to see their daeradar off. It will be the last time in a very long time that they will see him."

Thranduil opened his mouth to tell her that he had no intention of allowing her to go, much less the children. Then he glanced at his children. He sent them here to deliver a letter and ask dwarves how they came to be injured in the forest. They had, instead, managed a village leader who was far exceeding her authority and a very serious military crisis for the whole of Rhovanion. And they had handled both situations well. He could not deny that. Indeed, even as they related to him information from the dwarves that terrified him, he had been impressed by how detailed their report had been-everything he would have expected from any warrior. He sighed. Despite the fact that they were wearing the swords he allowed them to carry south, they were not warriors. Of course, neither was Lindomiel, and he knew he had no hope of preventing her from going with her father. And that meant he had to go with her. And if he went, how could he leave Legolas and Galithil here? Even guarded by Tulus and Galuauth, he was not comfortable with them being here alone. Better they stay with him.

"Very well, we will all go together to the border to fare Amglaur well. But will will be back here before nightfall," Thranduil conceded.

Legolas and Galithil grinned. "Thank you, adar," Legolas said.

Thranduil only nodded.

"We should go prepare to leave," Limmiel said, starting to walk away with Lindomiel.

"You cannot go with me to Lorien," Amglaur said firmly, stepping in front of his wife. His tone was calm and low, but his stance was that of someone armed for a fight.

Limmiel looked at him evenly. "Of course I am going with you. I am not staying in this forest to leave you to face danger and difficulties alone."

"The journey to Lorien will be too dangerous..." Amglaur began.

Limmiel rolled her eyes. "And the journey from Menegroth to Sirion was not dangerous? The journey from Lindon to Lorien was not difficult and dangerous?"

"That was different," Amglaur interrupted. "We were forced to flee Menegroth. And we made the best plans possible for the safest journey to Lorien. Let us do that again by allowing me to go ahead to get control of the situation before you follow me."

Limmiel coolly shook her head. "I am going with you. I fought in Menegroth. Twice. Just as you did. I fought when we were attacked in Sirion. I fought, as everyone did, in the War of Wrath, for pity sake. I am capable with both bow and sword. I will not be a hinderance to you. And I will be safer traveling with you now than with another escort later. And if it is dangerous, it is foolish to make two trips and endanger two escorts. Better to get it all over with all at once. I am going with you and that is the end of it."

Amglaur's jaw clenched and he turned a glare on Thranduil. A glare so stern that it brought Thranduil to his feet to face his father-in-law somewhat defensively. Several sets of eyebrows rose in response to that.

"I told you to keep her in place in the stronghold," Amglaur growled softly.

"And how did you expect me to do that?" Thranduil asked. "Should I have locked her in your rooms? Or perhaps I should have ordered the Gate Guard to arrest her when she left the stronghold?"

Amglaur said nothing in reply and his expression did not soften, but the tension in his posture did slacken, if only slightly.

"She packed a horse and said she was going to join you," Thranduil continued. "You cannot expect your wife to stay here, without you."

"Would you let Lindomiel make this journey?" Amglaur asked. "You did not even want her to go to the border." When Thranduil did not immediately agree that he would not allow such a thing, Amglaur scowled forbiddingly at him again.

"I doubt my ability to command Lindomiel," Thranduil confessed, trying to ignore Lindomiel's smile and the children's struggle to hide their own. "As I doubt your ability to command your wife. And if it will take physical force to keep her in Eryn Galen, I will leave it to you to apply it."

Amglaur snorted. "Coward," he muttered, turning away from Thranduil.

Thranduil laughed. "I am a coward? Was it not you, my lord Amglaur, who ordered me to imprison your wife so that you would not have to face her?"

Amglaur looked over his shoulder at Thranduil. "I want more than five warriors to meet us at the border if Limmiel cannot be prevented from going. "I want at least...eight. Ten would be better."

"I will see to it," Thranduil replied quietly.

Legolas half listened to his mother chatting with his daernaneth and daeradar and half focused on his own thoughts as he rode westward to the forest's edge surrounded by guards. As the trees around him thinned and grew more slender, their conversation had turned from happy memories of Amglaur and Limmiel's time in Eryn Galen to plans for when Lindomiel, Legolas and Galithil might visit Lorien once the situation there was brought under control. That those plans were all completely hypothetical-little more than an attempt to make their upcoming goodbyes seem less permanent-was underlined by the fact that Thranduil had not even made a token protest that Galithil and Legolas would not be old enough to make such journeys for many years yet. Legolas was very sad to see his daeradar leave. He had lived in Eryn Galen Legolas's entire life. So the fact that Legolas was also excited to be approaching the forest's western border made him feel a little guilty. But they should have a clear view of the Hithaeglir. The largest 'mountain' Legolas had ever seen was the one that housed the stronghold and everyone said that mountain was really little more than a large hill. To Legolas it was huge. He was very interested to see something bigger. To see what his daearadars and adar had crossed to come to the forest.

Legolas's horse started, bolting a step or two sideways before Legolas brought it back under control, when an odd noise sounded just on the southern side of the path. It was a sort of twanging noise that sounded familiar, but Legolas could not immediately identify it. Familiar, but out of place, somehow. He turned toward it as he tried to sooth his horse.

So did Thranduil, Amglaur and the guards. Indeed, their attention snapped towards the noise and they crouched lower on their mounts, while simultaneously reaching for an arrow from their quivers.

An arrow being released, Legolas realized! At the same time, he heard a high pitched noise-a woman's squeal. He looked in its direction while raising his hand to pull an arrow from his own quiver. His fingers never so much as grazed their fletchings before he was seized by the back of his tunic and pulled from his horse to the ground. Panicking, Legolas reached instead for his sword while trying to turn to face whoever had grabbed him, but his efforts were futile. He found himself held immobile between a body against his back and his now dancing horse. Its skittering movements pummeled him as he struggled to take in the situation around him.

"Stay still!" Tulus's voice hissed in his ear.

Face pressed against the flank of his horse and turned towards where Galithil and his mother had been riding moments before, Legolas saw his cousin in a similar position-sheltered between the solid shield of his horse and his guard at his back. Galuauth was peering over Galithil's horse in the direction the noise had come from. Eyes locked with Galithil's, Legolas made an effort to relax his posture and stop fighting Tulus. His guard responded by taking the slightest step backward in order to peer over the back of Legolas's horse. Legolas took advantage of the breathing room to do the same.

He saw his father and Amglaur, bows drawn, returning the attack, though Legolas saw nothing to shoot. Conuion's attention was focused on the guards he commanded. He held three fingers down to the ground next to him. Then he held up four fingers briefly before turning one to point at Galuauth, then Tulus and then the forest behind them. Without waiting for any acknowledgment, he nocked an arrow, turned, took a step forward to position himself in front of and slightly to the right of Thranduil. He loosed his arrow. It, along with those already loosed by Thranduil and Amglaur, elicited screeches from the low growth along the path. As the three guards that had accompanied his grandparents and mother south joined ranks with Conuion, black, snarling forms emerged from the tangled undergrowth. Legolas's breath caught and his heart seized as they bared their teeth and brandished black swords, taunting the thin line of elves they faced. There were many, many more orcs than guards. His father and grandfather did not have a chance of standing against them.

"Into the trees," Tulus commanded, pulling Legolas around with one hand and slapping the horse's flank with the other.

Galithil was half shoved by Galuauth, half pulled by Tulus to stand next to Legolas.

Legolas craned his neck to see Galuauth herding his mother and grandmother together and into the trees. Both seemed to be protesting, but Galuauth was unmoved. He forced them forward. Legolas had little time to contemplate that. Tulus grasped his arm in a painful grip and pulled him towards the tree Galithil was already climbing. "We cannot leave them," Legolas cried, gesturing back towards his father. "They cannot defeat that many orcs alone."

"No they cannot," Tulus replied, pushing Legolas against the tree. "But they can hold them back while we escape. If we do not take too long to do so, they might escape themselves. Up!"

Legolas's eyes widened and he stared at his guard.

"Legolas, up!" Galithil yelled at him from the tree. "Now is not the time to argue. We must obey Conuion. He is the captain."

Legolas scowled up at his cousin and then looked back over his shoulder. The line that his father, grandfather and the guards formed had already been pushed back several paces. One of the guards was already fighting with his sword in his offhand, his right arm held tightly against his torso and bleeding profusely. Legolas leapt and grabbed a branch, hauling himself into the tree. Tulus followed him, crouching on a branch between he and Galithil.

"Go straight north," Tulus began urgently, pointing in that direction. He obviously intended to say more, but instead he fell silent, squinting in the direction he was pointing.

To Legolas's left, from the tree naneth and daernaneth had climbed, a sparrowhawk called. Legolas frowned. No hawk would call attention to itself in the middle of this battle, even if disturbed by elves in its tree. From the corner of his eye, Legolas saw Conuion and Thranduil both spare a moment to glance over their shoulders. Their expressions were grim. Then Legolas heard the twanging noise that had begun this horror, but twentyfold as loud and from the opposite direction. From the north. Seconds later, arrows struck the trees around Legolas or buried themselves into the ground near his father. Thranduil side stepped a hewing blow from an orc close by him and that same orc, suddenly exposed by Thranduil's movement, was struck by an arrow. So was the guard next to Amglaur. He fell to one knee, an arrow protruding from his calf.

"We have to fight," Legolas said, turning to Tulus.

"We will have to fight," Tulus echoed him. "Our escape is cut off." He pushed Legolas and Galithil against the trunk of the tree and for a moment, Legolas thought that his guard intended for he and his cousin to cower behind it while he fought. Legolas reached for an arrow and nocked it against his bow. That was not going to happen! Galithil was doing the same. "Keep the trunk between you and the orcs," Tulus ordered, positioning Galithil on a branch on the western side of the trunk and Legolas on the eastern. "Target the eastern flank of the orcs. Galuauth and the ellyth will target the western flank. The orcs are wearing heavy armor-aim for their neck and head if you can. The joints of their armor are its weakest points if you have no other shot."

He said nothing more. Instead, he turned, crouched low on the same branch Legolas occupied, though further from the trunk, so Legolas was still able to hide behind it, and began to neatly pick off orcs. As soon as he and Galuauth began shooting, arrows began flying back at them, into the trees. Legolas stood immobile for a long moment, staring at the line of orcs, his blood pounding in his ears. Then he took a deep breath, chose an orc, drew back the arrow he had nocked moments before and relaxed the fingers on his bowstring. His arrow struck the orc in its open mouth. It reeled backward and collapsed to the ground. Legolas released his breath and his stance and reached for another arrow, while looking for another orc to target. He found one and then another and another still, in swift succession. Each fell. An orc at the front of the line, on the side that Legolas, Galithil and Tulus were targeting stepped forward, snarling like a rabid beast. It shook a furious fist, clutching an arrow, shouting something in its own foul language at Legolas. Then it nocked its arrow and aimed straight at him. Legolas froze, unable to move. Before the orc reached full draw, a yellow-fletched arrow with two black stripes-the fletching Tulus used-sank deep into its throat.

"None of them will hit either of you while I am still on this branch," Tulus called without pausing his attack. Another orc fell to one of his arrows while he spoke. "Focus on ending this, so we can escape. Once the way north is clear, flee, no matter what else happens."

Legolas drew another deep breath and targeted another orc, focusing on the pattern of nock arrow, draw, release-struggling not to focus on the arrows that struck the trunk near him. Struggling to keep his hands from shaking so badly as to ruin his aim.

Soon, Legolas was running out of targets. Unfortunately, he was also running out of arrows. He glanced over his shoulder to see how his father and grandfather were doing. He gasped. Amglaur, Thranduil and Conuion stood alone, pushed back nearly half way from their original position to the trees where Legolas and the others held off the orcs on the northern flank. Conuion was now fighting with his offhand and Legolas could see bleeding wounds on both his father and grandfather. The other three guards were not in sight, but far too many orcs still were.

Legolas shifted position, standing with his back to the trunk. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, targeted an orc close to his father and released his arrow. That orc fell and another quickly followed it. So did two more of its comrades when Amglaur and Thranduil took advantage of their shock and confusion at the sudden onslaught of arrows.

"What are you doing?" Tulus demanded.

"Helping adar," Legolas drew a breath to reply, but his response was cut off by an arrow flying from the shadowy overgrowth south of the path they had been following. A sharp scream left no doubt that it had struck its target. Legolas's head snapped west in time to see his daernaneth jerk, slam into the tree-trunk and then slide, struggling but failing to maintain balance, to the ground.

Legolas strangled for air against the lump of his heart pounding in his throat.

"Where did that arrow come from?" Tulus asked. At the same time, he stepped onto another branch so that Legolas and Galithil were positioned between him and the trunk.

Legolas shook his head. "South," was his only answer as he studied the ellyth writhing on the ground. He took a step towards her only to feel Tulus's grip close on his arm.

"Nana!" Lindomiel called.

Legolas sucked in a sharp breath when he saw his mother crouched low on the branch where she stood. Galuauth held her around her waist. "You cannot go down," he was shouting.

"I cannot hold them all back," Galithil shouted.

Legolas turned to look at his cousin in confusion and then realized their mistake-Limmiel had fallen and the orcs to the norrth were charging in to finish her off, unchallenged because Galuauth was too busy keeping Lindomiel in the tree, Legolas had turned to fight the orcs on the southern flank and Tulus was searching for the source of the new threat against them. Both Legolas and Tulus loosed arrows against the charging orcs, but it was not enough. Some-maybe half-fell. The rest reached the base of the ellyth's tree. Two grabbed Limmiel and pulled her to her feet. Twisting her arms behind her at an unnatural angle, causing her to again cry out. Another orc grabbed the arrow protruding from her side and twisted it about, loosing a grotesque laugh as it did. Another held its knife against her face and began to cut. Still another orc swaggered forward until it stood, pressed against his grandmother's struggling form. It licked her from the neckline of her dress to the base of her ear. Then it savagely bit her neck in the place it had licked it. Once again, she screamed.

Unable to target any of the orcs for fear of hitting his grandmother, Legolas watched, unable to breath. He was about to close his eyes when his grandfather appeared next to his grandmother. A down stroke of his sword felled the orc cutting Limmiel; the upstroke killed the orc biting her. Amglaur aimed another blow at the orc pulling on the arrow in her side and another at one of the orcs holding Limmiel up. He had to divert that attack to fend off another orc charging from the northern flank of the battle. Legolas was suddenly reminded of the need to help Galithil and Tulus hold the orcs back. He reached for an arrow, but as he did, his mother freed herself from Galuauth's grasp and leapt down from the tree, sword drawn. From his peripheral vision, Legolas saw her remove the arm of one of the orcs holding Limmiel. Galuauth followed Lindomiel from the trees and killed the other orc. Limmiel fell to her knees and Lindomiel crouched over her, Galuauth and Amglaur flanking them and, for now, holding the orcs approaching them at bay.

Legolas nocked an arrow and shot an orc charging his mother, sending it flying off its feet and face down to the ground. Legolas reached for another arrow. His hand floundered about before finally falling on one. He nocked it and killed another orc. "I am almost out of arrows!" he shouted, glancing at Tulus and Galithil. Galithil was entirely out of arrows. He had drawn his sword and was studying the battle on the ground around Limmiel intently.

"We are staying in the trees," Tulus shouted, loosing his last arrow and lowering his bow. He seized Galithil's arm. "You do not have the skill to fight so many enemies at once."

"Neither does nana," Legolas cried, sending his second-to-last arrow into an orc that was charging Lindomiel from behind.

Amglaur dragged her so that her back was against the tree she had jumped out of. Then he flanked her along with Galuauth and drove his sword into the gut of another orc.

Tulus shook his head. "This battle is lost," he said quietly.

Legolas's eyes widened and he turned to stare at his guard. Seeing his grim, sickened, expression, Legolas followed his gaze in time to see an orc drive Conuion to his knees with a blow that cleaved his shoulder. That orc fell when Thranduil drove his sword into its back. As he put his foot against the orc to pull out his sword, another aimed a wide swing at Thranduil's gut. It struck him full force, knocking him down. He fell on his back, sword still lodged in the last orc he killed, hands fumbling for the knife in his boot.

"No!" Galithil and Legolas yelled together as another orc raised its sword for a killing blow.

Legolas seized the last arrow from his quiver, drew and sent that arrow into the orc's ear. Then he shouldered his bow and drew his sword. "I am not going to die treed like a frightened squirrel." He jumped down from the branch and ran, full speed, towards his father, not certain, and not caring, if the pounding steps behind him were Tulus and Galithil or orcs chasing him.

"Legolas!" a rasping voice cried, as Legolas used the full force of his forward momentum to impale an orc towering over his father's fallen form. "Tulus get him out of here," the voice, weaker still, commanded.

Legolas pulled with all his might, shoulder against the orc his sword was embedded in. It pulled free. Legolas swung at another orc. Its sword, arm still attached, fell to the ground. He swung at another, hitting it low across the shin as he ducked under the blow that orc aimed at his head. Standing, he automatically directed his upswing at another orc, catching it under its breastplate. His sword stuck again, pinned between the orc's armor and the rib Legolas had cleaved. Legolas tugged. It would not come free. He heaved as hard as he could, but his sword was drawn down as the orc sunk to it knees. Behind him, Legolas saw another orc swinging at his neck.

Adar - father

Naneth - mother

Daeradar - grandfather

Daernaneth - granfmother

Hadhodrond - Elvish name for Khazad dum

Hithaeglir - Elvish name for the Misty Mountains


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: The evil was not yet known for what it was**

_The power of Sauron, servant of Morgoth, was then again growing in the world, though the Shadow in the Forest that looked towards Moria was not yet known for what it was._ Appendix A

Legolas ducked as the orc closest to him swung its sword at his head. The blade whistled through the air above him, its momentum pulling the orc off balance. Legolas dropped to his knees, pulling frantically at the armor that was wedged against his sword, trapping it pinned under the last orc he had killed. Galithil and Tulus's legs still danced around either side of him, fighting the remaining orcs. His father was now motionless at his side, an orc draped partly over his body. On the orc's other side, Legolas spotted his father's sword. Letting go of his own, Legolas dove for it, seizing it in time to position it, tip down in the earth, to block a blow that another orc aimed at him. Legolas pushed himself up and swung a cleaving blow at that orcs legs. But orcs were still coming at him and Tulus and Galithil from all directions.

"Back to back," Tulus called, positioning himself with his back turned to Legolas. Galithil nodded and did the same, at an angle with Tulus, so that they now stood facing the orcs in three different directions. The orcs continued to come at them from all three.

Legolas was positioned so he could see his mother, grandfather and Galuauth. They stood in a formation similar to the one Legolas, Galithil and Tulus were in, still fighting. Legolas did not have time to count how many orcs were around them. He swung at the orc approaching him, but the orc parried the blow, their swords clanging together so forcefully that the revertebration down the blade hurt Legolas's hand. The orc closed in on him, trying to push him back. Legolas threw his full weight against the much heavier orc, their blades locked between them. Legolas had been holding his sword in both hands, fearing he would not be strong enough to wield it with only one. Now he let go of the hilt with his left hand and pulled out the knife on his belt. He drove it under the orc's armor and it fell back, staggering, wounded, but not mortally so. Legolas raised his sword in his right hand and drove it down on the orc's shoulder-still not a mortal wound, but enough to put it permanently out of the fight. It fell back.

Legolas glanced again towards his mother and grandfather. Nana was pulling her sword out of an orc, daeradar sliced through one's legs and Galuauth was keeping two other orcs at bay while they both prepared for another onslaught. 'Nana fights well!' Legolas was relieved to see.

A loud clang sounded in Legolas's ear. It was Tulus parrying a blow that would have taken Legolas's head.

"Focus!" he shouted at him, sounding exactly like Langon, Legolas's swords master.

Legolas automatically turned his full attention back the the battle and buried his sword into the gut of the orc that had just swung at his head. Then he pulled it out with all his strength and swung it down to cut the legs from underneath the orc aiming at Tulus. They fell into their respective positions, back to back again.

As Legolas parried another blow, he heard hard, panting breathing that did not sound like an orc. It was his own, he realized as the orc drove down his sword more easily than any other had before. He kicked the orc currently attacking him hard in the knee and heard the joint snap. Then he hooked the back of the orc's other leg with his foot to pull it off balance, plunging his knife in its throat as it fell back. It collapsed to the ground, spurting blood. Legolas hefted his sword, readying for another attack. He could not do this forever. His arms were quickly weakening with fatigue. Galithil's gasping breaths signaled that he was tiring as badly as Legolas.

Legolas dared to expand his focus from the few feet directly in front of him to the battle field in general for long enough to scan it. There were still at least ten orcs around he and Galithil and that many again around nana and daeradar. They could not possibly win this.

Galithil loosed a pained scream. Legolas spun around to look at him. His blade was positioned for a hanging block to counter a high attack, but he did not have the strength to hold the block. His blade had turned and the orc's blow fell, carving flesh to the bone of his leg. Galithil fell to his knees.

At the same moment, Legolas saw movement in the brush to the south from the corner of his eye. His heart contracted in fear. If there were still more orcs coming, all hope was truly lost. An arrow flew towards nana and daeradar, missing nana only because she was driven forcefully back while parrying an orc's blow.

A remaining orc archer was hidden in the brush!

Another arrow swiftly followed the first one, this time missing Nana because Galuauth pushed her aside. It struck him, knocking him back against the tree where they had originally sheltered. He struggled to get up, but was struck by an orc across his thigh. That orc pressed its advantage, raising its sword to attack Lindomiel. She thrust her sword straight into its gut, let go of it without even bothering to try to retrieve it and reached for Galuauth's sword in his limp hands.

Legolas's eyes darted between his mother and the brush as another arrow flew, this time striking the tree above Galuauth's head. Legolas thought he saw movement in the brush-the hidden orc archer. But he had no more arrows. Definitely the archer! Legolas could see the arm of a long bow and an arrow. It tracked his mother's movements as she fought another orc. Legolas searched the ground for any undamaged arrow and his eyes fell on his father's quiver-his full quiver. Legolas dove under the swing of the orc attacking him, dropped the knife in his left hand and reached for an arrow. Seizing one, he dropped the sword in his right and reached for his bow. Just as he nocked an arrow against his bow string, the hidden archer released the arrow Legolas had seen aimed at his mother. Legolas drew and released his arrow.

His mother's voice loosed a terrible scream. At the same time, Legolas heard a squeal from the underbrush where the orc archer was hidden. He also heard the call of a screech owl-the call the patrols used to signal danger. A patrol was approaching!

"Legolas!" Tulus's voice called.

Legolas looked towards the voice and saw an orc looming over him from behind. He felt a flash of blinding pain and then felt nothing.

* * *

Dolgailon walked silently. Occasionally, Ostarndor would exchange a word or two with Morillion, but generally speaking, everyone remained quiet, largely, Dolgailon suspected, out of nervousness. Even within sight of the protective eaves of the forest, they were uncomfortable walking openly across the plain. Of course, they knew what had been streaming out of the forest and onto the plain, and therefore, had every reason to be uneasy.

As they approached the forest, they scanned its edge for dangers. Dolgailon saw none. Strangely, he saw nothing at all.

Approaching openly as they were, they had been visible to the border patrols for a long while. It might make sense that they had heard no signal warning of the unknown figures' approach while the patrols waited to determine if they were friend or foe, but by now the patrols should have recognized their captains, troop commander, and the guards and signaled their arrival. But the forest's edge was silent.

"Where is your patrol?" Dolgailon whispered to Ostarndor.

Ostarndor shook his head without looking away from the forest.

"By now, we should have been recognized and greeted. I think we should stop and devise a way to evaluate this," he ordered. "Something is wrong."

No one questioned him. Everyone stopped.

"Something moves! There!" Morrillion whispered, pointing.

"A large animal?" Galudiron said. "A buck? A very large buck?"

Colloth stepped a few paces closer to the forest and shook his head. "A horse. It is a horse," he declared as the animal wandered closer still to the edge of the forest.

Dolgailon, Colloth and Galudiron took several running steps forward. "It is the Queen's mare!" Colloth and Dogailon whispered in unison. They exchanged confused and slightly panicked looks. Dolgailon whistled for the horse. It looked up, startled, swiveling its ears in the direction of the whistle. Then it cantered straight to Dolgailon like a puppy, happy to see its master.

Dolgailon reached for its headstall and smoothed its nose.

"What is the Queen's mare doing here?" Dolgailon asked.

"I see two more horses," Ostarndor called. Then he imitated the call Dolgailon had made a moment before. Those two horses trotted obediently out onto the plain. One of them heavily favored its left front leg.

"Is that..." Colloth began, cutting himself off and looking sharply at Dolgailon.

Dolgailon nodded. This was the King's horse.

"He is wounded," Morillion said. "Bleeding down his left flank." He caught the horse's headstall at its approach. "An arrow wound," he confirmed, also looking back at Dolgailon. "Clean entry and exit wounds here," he indicated the muscle around the stallion's point of the shoulder. "He is frothed. Very hot."

Dolgailon, flanked by Colloth and Galudiron, crept slowly under the eaves of the forest, alert for any sign of what might be happening. Morillion and Ostarndor took up positions one to the north and one to the south of Dolgailon and followed slightly behind him.

"Too quiet," Dolgailon whispered.

"The trees here are uneasy," Ostarndor replied. "Something evil is nearby."

A short, pained, yelp sounded faintly, from deeper in the forest.

Dolgailon ran towards it.

Another, louder and distinctly feminine scream sounded.

Dolgailon made the call of a screech owl, signaling for any patrols that might be within hearing to come to his aide. He could now hear the sounds of battle, and snarling orcs, coming from the same area where he had heard the screams. He ran, sword in one hand, knife in the other, straight towards the sounds. As he approached, he caught sight, through the trees, of a golden-haired form, fighting four orcs. One orc held the elf against itself, its arm across the elf's chest. Numerous other orcs were pressed in close, but the elf-too slender to be the King-still had a knife.

Dolgailon stopped dead for moment, in shock. When the elf slashed out with the knife, the motion flung her hair off her face. It was Aunt Lindomiel! Dolgailon rushed towards her, dodging between the trees, oblivious now to anything else.

Lindomiel's knife caught one of the orcs across its throat. It staggered back, clutching at its neck as blood spurted through its fingers. The other orcs around her laughed. One grasped for the hand that held the knife and missed. It reached for her again with its other hand and Lindomiel drove the knife into that hand. The orc grunted in pain, but it closed its fingers around the blade of the knife embedded in its palm and twisted it from Lindomiel's grasp. With its uninjured hand it pulled its own knife, pressed it against her face, and drew it down. Lindomiel's hands flew up and gouged the orc's eyes with her thumbs. It staggered back. The orc holding Lindomiel shifted its grip on her. It caught one of her hands by the fingers and twisted, dragging that arm down and pinning it against her body. Another orc grabbed her free wrist with one hand and reached for the neckline of her dress with the other. All the orcs around her began to snort with laughter.

Dolgailon loosed noise that was in part a call and in larger part an animalistic snarl, to draw their attention.

A few-possibly five-of the orcs on the outside of the circle around Lindomiel spun around and brandished their swords. The ones most closely surrounding her began trying to drag her off. She fought, kicking them where ever she could land a blow as they pulled her off her feet. But they began to make good their escape.

Dolgailon signaled for Morillion and Ostarndor to flank the orcs that had turned to face them and pursue the ones with the Queen. As they made to do so, the orcs spread out to cut them off.

Raising his sword for a high blow, Dolgailon finally met the line of orcs. The orc before him managed to dodge his first blow, but stepped off balance. Dolgailon pivoted to aim his upswing at the orc's midsection. He connected and the orc doubled over. At the same moment, Dolgailon heard the call of a sparrow hawk. He looked in that direction. More orcs were approaching from the south.

Dolgailon's heart stopped. Behind the new line of orcs charging towards him, on all fours, clutching a fairly serious wound in his side with one hand...that could not possibly be... Dolgailon raised his sword to parry the blow of the orc rushing him. Then he looked back at the elf he had spotted a moment before. It was! Tulus! Tulus had made that call.

Worse, there were three figures, all motionless, on the ground around Tulus. All had the golden-silver hair of the House of Oropher. Dolgailon's mind refused to acknowledge that. But the King's stallion was one of the horses that had led them here. It was unthinkable that the King might be one of the elves lying next to Tulus. And Tulus's presence suggested... It was completely impossible that Legolas might be here, in the south, in a battle. Much less could he be lying unconscious. And Dolgailon did not even want to give thought to who the other figure might be, if Legolas were indeed here.

A scream from behind him caused Dolgailon to look over his shoulder. The orcs had pulled Lindomiel a good distance away and now one was running, carrying her flung over its shoulder.

Colloth had managed to break through the line of orcs between them and the Queen. He was running towards her, but two of the orcs around her broke off their retreat to meet his charge. Ostarndor and Morillion were engaged with two orcs each. Galudiron had just killed one of the orcs attacking he and Dolgailon, but three more surrounded them. Dolgailon swung at the legs of the orc closest to him. They needed to make fast work of these orcs before the ones carrying Lindomiel escaped, or cut their losses and simply killed her. He parried a blow aimed at his head, bore the orc's sword down, then drove his own up, under the orcs armor and into its gut. He wrenched his sword free. Galudiron was finishing another orc. Morillion and Ostarndor were down to one a piece.

His captains could finish this. Dolgailon turned and ran to help Colloth, who was now trying to get past the last orcs that stood between them and the ones carrying away the Queen. As he ran, the orc carrying Lindomiel, stopped, turned and looked at him, baring its teeth.

Dolgailon dodged around Colloth and the orcs he was fighting, pounding after the Queen as fast as he could, his foot steps almost sounded like horses.

The orc threw Lindomiel to the ground and laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. Lindomiel grunted as her head connected with a tangle of roots, but she got her hands underneath herself and was trying to rise or at least scramble away as the orc drew his sword.

Dolgailon stopped and reached for his bow. He knew he could not possibly reach his aunt before the orc's blade fell, but now that she was on the ground, he had a clear shot.

The orc raised its sword over the Queen and Dolgailon's fingers closed on an arrow in his quiver. No time. Not enough time, Dolgailon thought.

Suddenly, the orc standing over Lindomiel jerked sideways, and was flung to the ground, it sword flying wildly behind it. An arrow protruded from its side under its arm.

The remaining orcs surrounding Lindomiel, spun to face north and screeched in terror. They broke and ran, but a rain of arrows dropped them all.

Dolgailon stared at them, the arrow he had drawn from his quiver, still nocked against his bow. Four horses emerged from the trees and surrounded Lindomiel. Hallion rode one. The three elves with him, Dolgailon did not recognize.

Dolgailon looked behind him. Colloth was finishing the last of the orcs around him. Galudiron hamstrung the one he fought with a low swing of his sword. It fell, writhing to the ground. Morillion and Ostarndor finished two more orcs a few dozen paces away. Dolgailon turned full circle, looking for other enemies. There were none. It was over.

"My lady, you must stay here!" shouted one of the elves that Dolgailon did not recognize.

Dolgailon turned to the voice and stared at his aunt. She had managed to push herself to her feet and she was struggling against the elf holding her by her upper arms.

"My naneth. They dragged off my naneth," Lindomiel was yelling, pointing northward into the forest. "I have to help her." She was frantic.

The foreign elf turned Lindomiel to face him, holding her securely by her shoulders. "I will go after her, my lady. I will help her. You stay here and let someone see to your wounds." He spoke calmly and with such authority that Lindomiel stopped trying to pull away from him. Her brow furrowed as she looked him up and down once and then again.

"Haldir?" she finally managed.

The elf nodded. "I will go after your lady mother right now, if you will sit and let someone treat your wounds."

Lindomiel nodded and sagged against him. The elf, apparently named Haldir, passed Lindomiel to Hallion and made to walk north into the forest. Dolgailon went after him. Obviously wandering the forest now, alone, was not safe.

When Lindomiel recognized Hallion, she tensed again. "My wounds are nothing," she said, pulling away from him and taking a few running steps towards a tree riddled with arrows. Dolgailon looked at it and saw Galuauth struggling to push himself up against it trunk. Another body lay near him.

"Someone help my adar." Lindomiel was all but yelling at Hallion, who had caught her arm again. "Someone help him."

"I will, Aunt Lindomiel," Dolgailon called to her. "I will help him. Let Hallion help you." Dolgailon signaled for Hallion to keep her in place. Hallion nodded and pushed her gently against the nearest tree. Lindomiel collapsed to the ground and slumped against it, spent.

Dolgailon reached the arrow-riddleed tree and glanced at Amglaur, lying face down in the muck of the battle. He had an arrow through his chest. He was beyond help. And if orcs dragged off Limmiel, there was little doubt in Dolgailon's mind that she was also dead, though he would certainly find those orcs to make sure they met the same fate. He offered a hand to Galuauth and pulled the guard to his feet. He nodded his thanks, leaning against the tree and trying to maintain his balance while favoring a deep gash on his thigh and an arrow wound in his shoulder.

Dolgailon stepped past him and raised his hand to call the foreign elves over to him. They hesitated, exchanging a glance, but met him halfway between the tree where Amglaur lay and the one Lindomiel rested against. When the one called Haldir spotted Amglaur, he closed his eyes. They were clearly warriors, judging by their weapons.

"I appreciate your offer to search for Limmiel," Dolgaion said in a low voice, "especially for its effect of calmly the Queen. But I cannot allow you to search for her..."

Haldir drew a sharp breath to reply, but Dolgailon did not stop speaking.

"I can see that you are capable warriors and I appreciate your help here, but you do not know this forest and my patrols do not know you. It would be safer for me to send one of my own warriors after her."

Haldir's jaw clenched. "Lady Limmiel is our Queen," he said stiffly. "We would like to accompany your warriors."

Dolgailon frowned at that, looking at Haldir with open confusion.

"I am Haldir, marchwarden of Lothlorien. These are my brothers, Rumil and Orophin," Haldir said.

Dolgailon nodded to them. "Dolgailon Aradunnonion," he replied. "I do not understand. Lord Amglaur is King Amroth's nephew. He is not King of Lothlorien himself."

"King Amroth has left Lothlorien for the Havens. We traveled here to ask Lord Amglaur to return to Lothlorien as our King."

Dolgailon glanced down and, with effort, refrained from looking behind himself at Amglaur. "I am very sorry," he said quietly. "I will call for someone to look for Limmiel immediately, but if they have taken her..." he drifted off.

Haldir nodded once.

"We need help over here," Ostarndor called from where Dolgailon had seen the heap of elves around Tulus.

Dolgailon turned to him reluctantly, fearing what he would see near Tulus.

Tulus was still conscious. He had fallen back to sit, propped up by his least wounded arm. Ostarndor and Morillion had straightened out four bodies to lie on their backs next to him. Two moved weakly against their pain, Dolgailon saw. Two did not. Two were also smaller than the other two.

"This is not possible," Dolgailon whispered as he stalked over to help his captains. They were swiftly opening pouches from their packs. The Lothlorien elves followed him.

"We need those horses, so we can get them to your village," Ostarndor said without looking up at Dolgailon's approach.

"Quickly. These wounds are poisoned. We need to figure out which poison and we will need more medicine than the small amount we are carrying."

Dolgailon picked up one of the orc's blades and, checking his hand quickly for open wounds, ran his finger along the flat of its blade. Then he tasted the gunk on his finger and spat. "It is the poison that causes fever." He looked down at the wounded elves that Ostarndor was treating and his worst fears were confirmed-the King and Conuion, which Dolgailon had expected, along with Legolas and Galithil.

Galithil, to Dolgailon's great relief, began to try to sit up when he saw his older brother. "Dolgailon! What are you doing here? I thought you were in the south." His voice was rough with pain.

"What am I doing here?" Dolgailon repeated, kneeling next to his brother, looking him over and nearly getting sick at the sight of the gaping wound on his leg. He pulled off his tunic and used his knife to make a tear in it. Then he tore a strip of cloth from it and began wrapping his brother's leg.

"That needs to be cleaned and stitched before it is wrapped," Ostarndor interrupted. "You know better. Wrapping it will only trap the poison. Leave it to bleed."

Dolgailon looked at him. He was examining Legolas's head. Dolgailon's heart raced a little harder when he noticed that Legolas was limp in Ostarndor's arms. Next to him, Morillion was cutting the tunic and shirt off the King. Dolgailon closed his eyes briefly. The King was also perfectly still. His shirt and tunic were soaked in blood and Dolgailon saw a gaping wound across his gut. "Is he dead?" Dolgailon asked.

Both Ostarndor and Morillion shook their heads.

"I think he was hit, hard. Here," Ostarndor waved his hand over Legolas's temple. "I do not think his skull is crushed though. There are no indentations or soft areas. I think it is a concussion. Nothing more."

Dolgailon breathed a little easier.

As Ostarndor spoke, Morillion inspected the length of Thranduil's wound. "Muscle is cut," he announced. "Very deeply in some places. But the abdominal wall is still intact. I do not think any organs were damaged, or at least not perforated and that is the most important thing. We need a healer, but I think he will live if we can stop this bleeding and counteract the poison. We need to get them to your village and to more medicine," he said, repeating Ostarndor's earlier suggestion.

Feeling a spark of hope, Dolgailon signaled to Morillion to fetch the horses they had seen wandering on the forest edge. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked, directing himself to Galithil and Tulus.

"Uncle sent Legolas and I to speak to the dwarves in your village," Galithil answered. "He did not want Amglaur to do it, given how much he hates dwarves," he continued in response to his brother's confused expression.

"The Southern Patrol reported elves from Lothlorien and dwarves in your village," Tulus elaborated. "The King allowed Lord Amglaur to question the messenger about the Lothlorien elves, but the answers he received only alarmed Lord Amglaur. So he came south to speak further to his citizens while Galithil, in your place, was to find out what the dwarves were doing in the village. It was reported that they were wounded."

Dolgailon shook his head. "Then what are the King and Queen doing here?"

"The King escorted Lady Limmiel south to join her husband when Lord Amglaur heard from the Lothlorien elves that Lord Amroth had fled Lothlorien. Lord Amglaur intended to return to his home, to try to help his people there." Tulus looked down and continued in a softer voice. "The Queen wished to travel with her parents to the forest border to fare them well."

Dolgailon stared at Tulus a long moment. The elves from Lothlorien were shaking their heads. Dolgailon looked around the battlefield. More orcs than he could immediately count lay dead or dying around him. Galudiron was extracting the bodies of three of the King's Guard from amongst the orcs' bodies on the southern flank of the battle. The northern flank, where Thranduil undoubtedly hoped his wife and children could escape, was lined by orcs pierced by arrows-some the yellow arrows used by the King's Guard and some fletched with the bright red Legolas and Galithil currently favored. Dolgailon could plainly identify the trees where they had sheltered-they were festooned with black-fletched arrows. This was a disaster for Lothlorien. It may yet be for the Woodland Realm.

"What about Conuion?" Dolgailon asked, as Ostarndor turned to examine the King's guard.

"His shoulder is very seriously damaged. He may lose the use of this arm, if he doesn't lose the arm itself. But, I think he will live, if he survives the poison. He is already feverish. So is the King."

So were Galithil and Tulus, Dolgailon could tell from their flushed faces. He stood. "Bring the Queen and Galuauth," he called, signaling to Hallion, who had remained with Lindomiel. "We are heading for the village."

"Bring that arrow," Tulus called to Galuauth, pointing to the tree he had been leaning against.

Galuauth nodded and grasped an arrow with a silvery-painted shaft and bright blue fletchings. He yanked it from the tree and shoved it into his quiver.

Dolgailon frowned. "It does not seem to be a lucky arrow, Tulus," he said as he helped Galithil to a horse. "It struck nothing."

"It is a very lucky arrow," Tulus replied. "It did not strike the Queen, though it and several others were intended to. The last one like it, the one that killed Amglaur, was intended for the Queen, but Amglaur stepped in front of her."

Dolgailon looked at Tulus sharply. "That does not look like an orc's arrow," he whispered, mindful of the presence of the Lothlorien elves. "It is too long to be shot from an orc's bow. That arrow was shot from a long bow."

"I agree," Tulus grunted in response as Ostarndor helped push him onto a horse.

* * *

Legolas sat on a mattress that had been dragged into Dolgailon's bed chamber. It was the largest private room in the talan and had been converted into an infirmary for Thranduil, Galithil, Legolas and Lindomiel. After several days of nausea and dizziness, Legolas was finally feeling better. He was only here now to keep Galithil company and to keep an eye on his father. Lindomiel also was largely recovered, but she had naturally spent the majority of the last few days next to her husband. She was only away now long enough to gather something for herself, Dolgailon and the children to eat for supper.

Thranduil had just awakened from the fever caused by the orcs' poisoned weapons earlier that morning. The brief conversation he managed left Legolas only more concerned about him. Thranduil had been...barely coherent, to be honest. Weak, disoriented. Legolas had never seen his father in such a state. Despite the fact that Salabeth said his recovery was better than she expected, Legolas was still worried, an emotion intensified by the fact that Thranduil had slept the rest of the day without awakening again. Legolas found himself staring at his father's chest rise and fall, trying not to think about...well, trying not to think about anything at all. The scritching of Dolgailon's pen as he wrote orders to the patrols at a desk in the corner of the room was Legolas's only distraction, and it was a very poor one, since it constantly brought his thoughts back to warriors and battles and orcs.

Galithil shifted on his mattress. He had been resting his injured leg stretched out in front of him, propped on a pillow. Now he allowed the leg to dangle over the edge of the mattress. The change in position drew a long sigh of relief.

Legolas glanced sympathetically at his cousin. Then he frowned. The relieved noise his cousin just made contrasted sharply with the rather sick look on his face.

"Do you need anything," Legolas asked, standing to fetch Galithil some water or broth or tea from the stand the healers had left in the room. Thranduil was to drink some of the broth and then the tea when he awakened. The tea was drugged. Maybe it would be wise for Galithil to drink a little of it to get some pain-free rest.

As he spoke, a light knock on the door drew Legolas's attention. He looked towards the sound and saw Tulus leaning on the door frame. He had a blue fletched arrow with him. He nodded in greeting to Legolas and said something to Dolgailon. Then he sat down heavily in the chair Dolgailon indicated, his uninjured arm pressed tightly against the wound under his ribs.

Galithil shook his head in response to Legolas's question. "My leg was only a little stiff. I feel fine."

Legolas faced him, hands on his hips. "You look like we did when we were five and nana made us eat asparagus. You do not look fine."

That wrung one snorting laugh from Galithil before he quickly sobered. He said nothing.

Legolas walked over and sat on Galithil's cot, leaning back against the wall. "Do you want to talk?"

Galithil shook his head. "I do not want to make you think about it."

"I am already thinking about it," Legolas replied. "Nothing is going to stop that." He studied Galithil, who still refused to look at him. "He was as much your daeradar as he was mine," Legolas said when Galithil still did not speak. "You were going to miss him as much as me if all he did was leave for Lorien. Seeing him killed was twice as hard on you as it was on me. I know that."

Galithil swallowed and remained silent.

Tulus and Dolgailon's whispered conversation buzzed in the silence. Legolas glanced at them. It was becoming heated, if Dolgailon's gesticulating and Tulus's openly annoyed expression was any indication. Tulus very rarely displayed any emotion that could be construed as even mildly disrespectful to anyone in the King's family. Legolas wondered what that conversation was about.

"I will miss Amglaur," Galithil finally said in a very quiet voice, drawing Legolas's attention back to him. "Seeing orcs kill him was nearly as bad as seeing them kill adar. That is the second battle that we have seen, and it was as horrible as the first. When I am being honest with myself-and I confess it is difficult to be honest at the moment-I cannot imagine seeing battles like that on a regular basis. Seeing someone you care about injured or killed...eventually being in the position to order people you know and care about into battles and be responsible for the injuries and deaths that result. Then treating the wounded and beginning the cycle again. Having that be your life. Your daily life. I am not sure I want that."

Legolas's eyes widened at his cousin's implication.

Galithil looked up at Legolas and met his gaze. "But what I cannot get out of my thoughts...what I will never forget, if I live until the Final Battle...what was far worse than a fair battle between armed, skilled warriors, was what the orcs did to Limmiel after she fell." He closed his eyes. Then he quickly opened them again, as if he did not want to see what he saw when they were closed.

Legolas clenched his jaw, that memory easily driving any other thoughts out of his head. He could not agree more. He had spent most of the last few days forcing himself to think about anything other than that. He had even resorted to doing stupid things like reciting poetry and the lines of the kings of Men to himself just to keep his mind occupied and focused elsewhere.

"It was...disgusting. They enjoyed... It was as if they were playing..." he stammered, not even able to voice his thoughts.

"It was not play," Galithil spat. "We played with bugs when we we younger, but we did not pull their legs off..."

Legolas looked at his cousin in confusion.

"We caught frogs and salamanders and mice and even tried keeping them, but we never took bites out of them or carved into them with our knives, all while they were alive..." Galithil drifted off, grimacing. "Watching them do it once to Limmiel was bad enough. When they got hold of your naneth and I thought I would have to see it again, I wished..." he shook his head and faltered to a stop. "They are utterly evil," he concluded. "In a way that I never even imagined-that I can still barely conceive of, even after seeing it. I will never forget it. "

Legolas stared at the curtain of hair that shielded Galithil's down-turned face. He had seen the orcs enjoying his daernaneth's pain. He could hardly bear to watch it and he agreed with Galithil that it was something he would never forget the sight of. But he had been struck unconscious before his daernaneth was killed. Apparently matters had grown even worse. And naneth had refused to describe the specifics of how her fingers had been broken or how she received the cuts on her arms and chest or the one that traveled from her cheek down her throat and into the neckline of her dress. Legolas's heart began to thud uncomfortably. He had assumed that a sword had made those cuts during the fight-and that had been frightening enough-but it never occurred to him that an orc might have had his naneth as one had his daernaneth. His hands clenched into fists and bile rose in his throat at the thought of one of those vile creatures actually laying hands on his mother.

"Come here, ionnath nin," Thranduil's tired voice whispered.

Legolas and Galithil both turned sharply toward his cot.

He was holding out a hand in their direction.

Galithil sat up quickly enough to force a gasp from him despite his best efforts to stifle it. He pulled himself up from the cot and Legolas helped him to hop over to Thranduil. Both Legolas and Galithil took Thranduil's hand and Legolas squeezed it a little harder when Thranduil seemed unable to close his hand around theirs.

"Orcs are wholly evil," he said without opening his eyes. "They are not Illuvatar's children. They are Morgoth's spawn-a twisted product of his dark arts because he is not capable of creation himself. That is why we offer them no quarter in battle. They, like their master, seek only to destroy and so deserve nothing but destruction themselves." He paused for a few breaths. "I would say that I regret you have seen this evil so early in your lives, and I do. I would have preferred that you never had to see it, but it is not within my power to give you such a world. That being true, I confess I am very glad you were present for this battle. If I had followed my initial instincts and left you here in this village while your naneth and I travelled to farewell Amglaur, they would have brought my body back to you, if they could have found enough of it to bring." He opened his eyes and looked blearily at Legolas and Galithil. "I was conscious long enough to see you both standing over me. I do not know how that battle ended-if you and Tulus ended it or if help finally arrived-but I do know that the orc that did this," he slid his free hand to the bandages across his abdomen, "or one of the others near him would have finished me if you had not prevented it."

"The orc that did that did not live to draw another breath," Legolas said automatically, his voice cold. Then he frowned. What did his father just say? Did he just say that he was glad Legolas and Galithil were in the battle? He was definitely delirious.

Legolas did not have long to think about his father's words. Thranduil was slowly focusing properly on Legolas and Galithil, and his brow furrowed deeply as he did.

Legolas stiffened. His mother made a fuss every time she looked anew at the bruise on his temple. It was positively black, as was the eye closest to it. Even the skin around his other eye had a yellowish tint to it. Legolas considered the bruise far preferable to having his head cleaved in two altogether, and that is what would have happened if Tulus had not been able to turn the orc's blow. But the bruise did look bad, there was no denying it. Apparently, given his father's expression, it looked very bad.

"It is nothing, adar," Legolas insisted as Thranduil tried, but failed, to raise his hand and touch his son's face. "I was hit. It is nothing."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed, clearly not believing that bruise was nothing. But his gaze shifted to Galithil, looking him up and down, his expression demanding an explanation for the awkward way Galithil held his leg.

"I have a small cut on my leg, uncle. It hurts a little, but it is also nothing," Galithil said.

"You are lying," Thranduil whispered, unable to draw a deep enough breath to speak in a normal voice. "You could not walk from your own cot to mine without aid. You are both lying. A bruise like that," his gaze passed over Legolas's face once again before his eyes fell closed, "was caused by a blow that knocked you unconscious. Any blow serious enough to disable a warrior is not nothing." He shook his head. "But I will not criticize those lies. After a battle like that, I am only thankful that you are here to speak to me, lie or truth. And I am thankful to be here to listen to whatever you say," he mumbled, before slipping back to sleep.

Legolas was not certain what concerned him more: his father's obvious weakness or the fact that his cousin actually grimaced upon being referred to as a warrior.

Galithil and Legolas remained next to the cot until they were certain that Thranduil had fallen back to sleep. Then Legolas carefully repositioned the hand they had been holding so it rested at Thranduil's side. The movement did not make him stir. Legolas stood and pulled Galithil to his feet, acting as his crutch as he hobbled back to his own cot. After helping him settle, Legolas stared at him a moment, trying to decide what else to say to him. Would it be better to leave Galithil's current line of thinking alone, so as to not encourage it? Or would it be better to make him talk about it? If they talked, maybe Galithil would remember that it was his duty to defend this forest so that innocent villagers would not be forced to see what they had just seen. Legolas knew better than to directly say that to Galithil. His cousin was stubborn. Stubborn enough to behave in a contrary manner just because he could, at times.

"Do you understand what you are asking me to believe?" Dolgailon said from the other side of the room, no longer whispering.

Legolas turned at the sound of his older cousin's voice and an idea occurred to him. Galithil respected his older brother. Perhaps Dolgailon should hear what Galithil was saying, so he could talk to him about it. Legolas took a step towards them, intending to interrupt their conversation and ask Dolgailon to speak to Galithil. Before he could take a second step, he stopped and stared at them.

Dolgailon and Tulus were leaning into each other's faces, both talking, one over the other, in furious whispers, whether in an effort to keep their conversation private in the crowded room or in an effort to not disturb Thranduil, Legolas could not tell.

"If what you are saying is true," Dolgailon said, after making a sweeping gesture intended to demand Tulus's silence, "I would have to believe that this Manadhien was not only in league with orcs, but also willing to kill elves." He shook his head. "I cannot believe any elf is capable of either of those acts."

Legolas's eyes widened. Manadhien? Why in all of Arda would they be discussing her? Legolas looked at the arrow in Tulus's hand. It was one of the arrows the hidden orc archer had shot. Tulus thought it was Manadhien, not an orc, that shot it? Is that what they were arguing? Legolas had to agree with Dolgailon. That thought was mad!

"I am telling you that I saw her in this village," Tulus said, stabbing a finger down on the desk. "With Dannenion and Dolwon..."

"You initially said that you only got a glimpse of her..."

"I did. I admit that. But look at this arrow!" He thrust it in front of Dolgailon's face. "As you said yourself when Galuauth retrieved it: it is longer than my arm. An orc's bow could not shoot this arrow..."

"Elves are not the only beings that know how to make longbows, Tulus. And orc could do so..."

"But have you ever seen one do so? Or fletch their arrows bright blue...?"

"I have seen orcs steal weapons from their victims and use them..."

"Then you had better order one of the patrols to find the elf they killed and stole these weapons from. It was not any of us..."

"You are asking me to believe that this Manadhien is in league with orcs and willing to kill the King with her own hands," Dolgailon repeated his original argument. "Thranduil told me that none of her schemes ever required her or any other conspirator to directly murder another elf. I believe that. No elf would do such a thing."

Tulus leaned forward in disbelief. "Lord Oropher told me that he saw elves killing elves twice, with his own eyes. He was one of their intended victims!"

"Feanor and his sons and followers did what they did to fight against Morgoth, not to ally with his minions."

"As I learned the history from Oropher, they claimed they took the ships in Alqualonde in order to pursue Morgoth, but by the time his sons invaded Menegroth and Sirion, they were killing elves, not orcs, for no other reason then the possession of some jewel. Manadhien, Thranduil tells me, is Noldor. Perhaps she was one of them and has no qualms about killing elves, having already done so."

Dolgailon rolled his eyes and loosed an exasperated sigh. "Very well, Tulus. You conspired with her, after all. You tell me: did you and Manadhien ever plot to kill the king yourselves? With your own hands?"

Legolas had held his breath throughout this rapid exchange, too stunned by it to remember to breath. Now he released that breath as if he had been punched. Tulus reacted to Dolgailon's statement in much the same way, reeling back in his chair and staring at Dolgailon with deep pain in his eyes. Legolas was instantly reminded of the expression on Tulus's face as he had confessed his part in Manadhien's plans to him before being appointed as his guard. That had been a horrible conversation and one he wished he could have spared Tulus. He certainly was not going to watch him suffer that topic again. Not now.

"Enough!" Legolas exclaimed, striding across the room and interposing himself between his guard and cousin. He faced Dolgailon, posture stiff, glaring down at him in his chair.

Tulus's gaze snapped to Legolas the moment he spoke. He stood instantly. Dolgailon expression slackened in surprise and he stared at Legolas, but only briefly, before standing as well.

"Dolgailon, I respect the fact that you are both my elder and this realm's Troop Commander," Legolas said in a low, even voice. "And I assume that Tulus is telling you about his suspicions regarding Manadhien's involvement in this battle because Conuion is still unconscious and with adar...in his current condition, well, I assume you will take the King's place until he recovers. I respect that as well. But you would do well to respect the fact that Tulus is standing here now bearing the second, nearly mortal wound that he has suffered while defending my life. It is unjust remind him of deeds that he long ago atoned for and has long ago been pardoned for. Moreover, doing so is an unacceptable response to Tulus's attempt to do his duty to report what he suspects is a threat against the King. Justice and duty aside, it is an unimaginably unkind way to treat someone who has been your friend for as long as you have been a warrior. Apologize to Tulus."

Dolgailon did not speak. Instead he stared at Legolas in silence.

"Now!" Legolas demanded firmly, but without raising his voice.

Dolgailon took a step back and looked at the floor. "My failure to respond does not stem from an unwillingness to do as you ask," he finally said quietly. "I..." he stumbled to a stop and took a deep breath. Then he looked back at Legolas directly. "I apologize, my lord. You are quite correct that the way I spoke to Tulus was unacceptable."

Legolas blinked at that, but Dolgailon did not notice it, or if he did, he did not acknowledge it.

Instead he turned to Tulus. "We have been friends nearly my entire life. I do apologize, Tulus. Sincerely. I meant that as a serious question. but I should have worded it more carefully because I can see how it would hurt you to be reminded of those times. I did not intend it to imply that you still harbored any sympathies for that conspiracy and I definitely did not intend to cause you pain, I swear. I beg your forgiveness."

Tulus looked down at his boots, frowning. "And you have it, my lord."

Dolgailon stepped around Legolas to grasp Tulus's uninjured arm and make him look at him. "I do not want your forgiveness as your lord. I have never put myself in that place with you. You have always been like a second father to me and I have always been grateful for that. I am asking for your forgiveness as your friend, Tulus," he said softly.

"You have it," Tulus repeated, trying to muster a bit of a smile.

Dolgailon smiled back at him and then turned to Legolas. "Does that satisfy you, my lord?" he asked.

Legolas was slowly growing accustomed to that form of address when he was performing some duty his father had given him. He was completely stunned to see Dolgailon use it now. He studied him quickly, trying to find any sign that he was joking or mocking him, which was not something he would have ever expected from his cousin. Indeed, he did not appear to be. Legolas shook his head to try to throw off his surprise and drew a breath to say that it did satisfy him, but then, he realized it did not entirely. If Tulus was right, his grandfather and grandmother and three guards had been killed because an Elf plotted to kill them! Worse, his grandfather and grandmother had been directly killed by that Elf and his mother nearly had been as well! It was so unbelievable, Legolas did not even know how it made him feel, but he did know that he wanted to find out if Tulus was right.

"I would be better satisfied if you finish the conversation you were having about Mandhien," he finally answered. Then he turned to Tulus. "I was talking with Galithil and Adar and did not hear everything you said. Did I overhear you say that you thought you saw Manadhien in this village, Tulus?"

"Yes, my lord, you did," Tulus replied and he quickly related the story of the elleth he saw speaking to Dannenion and Dolwon.

As he spoke, Dolgailon dragged another chair over to the desk and offered it to Legolas. Legolas sat. Then Dolgailon, and finally Tulus, re-seated themselves.

"And to answer your question, my lord," Tulus concluded, looking at Dolgailon. "In fact, I did hear Manadhien say once that she was perfectly willing to rid the forest of the King by killing him herself, if only we-it was Dolwon, Dannenion, Fuilin and myself present, at the time-would let her. That was the argument she used when she was trying to convince us to allow Men to kidnap the Queen the first time she tried it. She said it was either drive Thranduil out by threatening his family's life in a convincing way or simply kill him outright. It was at that moment that I broke with their conspiracy, because I believed she meant what she was saying. She was willing to do murder. But I understand the others agreed to the deal with the Men to prevent Manadhien from making good on her threats against Thranduil's very life."

Dolgailon was staring at Tulus by the time he finished speaking. "Does the King know that? And Conuion?" he asked.

"Of course," Tulus answered swiftly. "I told them absolutely every detail I could remember about my interactions with Manadhien."

Dolgailon loosed a long breath. "Very well, even assuming that I can comprehend the idea of an elf being willing to kill another elf, the idea that Manadhien was the archer that was targeting the Queen, Amglaur and Limmiel still depends on the idea that she was allied with the orcs. She could not have hidden herself amongst them if she were not allied with them."

That was a good point, Legolas thought. An Elf could not have hidden amongst the orcs. It was impossible.

"I think she was not only allied with them, but that she also designed their attack on the King's party," Tulus replied firmly.

Legolas openly gaped at Tulus and from the corner of his eye, he saw Dolgailon's jaw drop.

"You think she is...what? Some sort of orc commander?" Dolgailon finally managed to ask.

"I know that she has allied with Dark Men-with the Evil One's own minions-before and planned attacks in this forest with them. I do not think it would be surprising if she allied with his minions again to attack the forest."

Dolgailon shook his head. "But...orcs?"

"That was a very well strategized battle plan for a rabble of orcs, my lord," Tulus pressed. "Attacking on two fronts. Placing the archers on the Northern front, where the guards would naturally take the children and ellyth into the trees for escape. And over seventy orcs? All wandering together, coincidentally in the same place the King was traveling when no orcs have been seen in this area in over a year? And all of them had just happened to poison their weapons for their stroll through the forest that afternoon?" Tulus shook his head. "I do not believe that many orcs just happened upon the King's party in such fortuitously organized position. I think someone smarter than orc captains planned and executed that attack and then accompanied the orcs to make sure all went as planned. It very nearly did. It would have if you had not arrived exactly when you did. It still might have, if Legolas had not already eliminated the hidden archer."

"Legolas shot...that archer?" Dolgailon asked.

Legolas and Tulus both nodded. Legolas's head swam as the realization of what he had done hit him.

"No elleth's body was found," Dolgailon said.

"Good. I am very glad no body was found," Legolas replied, his voice a little rough. "Learning that I shot an arrow at an elf-an elleth-and likely wounded her, is already quite enough to make me sick. I would hate to think that I killed an elf. But I only saw the arm of her bow and her arrow and maybe a shadow of a form in the brush. I shot at her. I did not see her well enough to properly target her, so I am not surprised I did not hit her squarely. I never got another glimpse of her because then I was struck," he pointed at the bruise on his temple. He fixed Dolgailon with a grave expression. "I admit I know very little about warfare, but Tulus makes a good argument that this battle was too well strategized for orcs. Do you agree?"

"When I first saw that groups of orcs, I assumed you were unfortunate enough to come across one of the many parties that have been leaving the forest for Hadhodrond, though they were unusually far north for that crossing. But now...I cannot deny I can see Tulus's version of events as a possibility as well," Dolgailon admitted.

Legolas closed his eyes, nausea and fury rising in his gut at the idea that an Elf had plotted, with orcs, to kill him and his family. It was utterly unbelievable.

"You saw her in this village?" Dogailon asked, still sounding incredulous. "You think she lives here? In my adar's village? He lived here until forty years ago. Do you know what my adar would have done to her if he had caught her? Do you know what the King would do?"

"He will execute her when he catches her," Tulus replied matter-of-factly. "Your adar would have done it himself with his bare hands had he ever found her."

Legolas turned a disapproving look on his guard. "My adar would not execute an elf, Tulus," he said in a quietly scolding tone.

"An elf who gave your naneth and mine to Men? Twice?" Dolgailon said. "Who tried to see you and Galithil captured by Men when you were defenseless infants? An elf in league with orcs? Oh, yes he would, Legolas. Thranduil will destroy anything that harms his family and never doubt that. The point is, Manadhien has to know that too. Surely she would not chose to live in my village, where she would risk being seen."

"Seen by whom?" Tulus asked. "You were not even born the last time she was seen by anyone in your family. You would not recognize her. The King and Queen and guards that would recognize her rarely come to this village. And in my experience, Manadhien is very good at disappearing when she wants to. Moreover, she does not want to hide. She wants followers. She cannot secure those while in hiding. I am not saying that she lives here. I do not know that. I do believe she was here in this village, possibly visiting Dannenion and Dolwon. I have followed them south before in hopes of catching her."

Dolgailon's expression was one of surrender. "Very well, Tulus, I concede this is at least possible. The question then is: what do you want to do about it? Conuion is not yet conscious, if he will even live. We cannot await his orders. Or the King's. You are an officer of the King's Guard. What is your recommendation for how we respond to the threat that Manadhien might have engineered this attack? I will help you carry out whatever you suggest."

Tulus looked alarmed at the idea that he should be responsible for that decision.

"You know her better than any of the rest of us, Tulus," Dolgailon said. "That is not intended as an accusation or a reminder. It is a tactical advantage that we should use. How should we respond to this?"

Tulus leaned against the back of his chair and paused a long moment, thinking. "I think we should act as if we suspect nothing," he finally said. "If we send a group of warriors or guards searching for her and inquiring in the villages about her, she will disappear exactly as she did when her last attack against the Queen failed. The closest we have ever come to capturing her was through spying on her contacts. Let me see if I can find a way to approach Dannenion, Dolwon or any of our old friends here in the south without raising their suspicions. Other than that, I suggest we wait to give her enough time to relax again. To think that anyone who might recognize her has returned north. Then, let me come back here secretly. If she is here, I will find her."

Dolgailon nodded. "You will need the King's permission to assign another guard to Legolas while you are away, and I want you to send a message to the stronghold requesting more guards be sent here. I want the King and Queen very well guarded while they remain here. Otherwise, that sounds like a reasonable plan." He turned to Legolas. "Do you agree?"

Legolas laughed. "If I have little knowledge of warfare, I have none at all of spying or trapping criminals. My opinion does not matter."

Dolgailon smiled at him. An amused smile that made Legolas's eyebrows climb. "Oh, but your opinion does matter, my lord," he said. "Your earlier assumption that I will be taking the King's place while he is recovering was quite wrong. It is you, and not I, that is the King's son."

Legolas laughed again and drew a breath to remind Dolgailon that he was not of age. But another knock on the door interrupted him. It was a lieutenant from the Southern Patrol along with three foreign elves that Legolas did not recognize, but they were clearly warriors. They all had magnificent bows. Dolgailon's expression grew shuttered and he glanced at Legolas and Galithil quickly while ordering the lieutenant to silence with nothing more than the intensity of his glare.

"Are these the warriors that were searching for any sign of daernaneth?" Legolas asked quietly. He knew his daernaneth was dead. Having it confirmed for certain was something he both did and did not want to hear.

Dolgailon's jaw clenched, but he nodded and then addressed the lieutenant. "What did you find?"

The officer shook his head. "We tracked them to the edge of the forest. They remained just under its boughs for a long distance, probably until night fell, and then they cut out onto the plain. I did not want to pursue them there without orders."

"If you cannot send anyone, my brothers and I can track them on our return to Lothlorien. We will see that they are finished," Haldir stated.

"How many were there?" Dolgailon asked. "There are only three of you, after all." Then he looked at the lieutenant. "And you are certain they completely left the forest?"

"We tracked four, my lord," the lieutenant replied. "We could see their tracks extend far onto the plain. They have definitely left the forest."

Dolgailon nodded and turned to Haldir. "If you can find them..."

"We will," Haldir hastened to assure him.

"What about daernaneth?" Legolas asked. "If you did not find her body, how can you be certain she is dead? What if they still have her alive?"

The lieutenant looked at Dolgailon and shook his head again. In his peripheral vision, Legolas saw that Galithil's eyes were tightly shut.

"We found enough of her that we can be certain she is dead," Haldir replied, quietly.

Legolas's brow knit, not understanding what that could mean. Then the significance of his cousin's earlier statement about 'pulling legs off bugs' slammed into place in his brain. He swallowed hard, looked straight ahead at nothing and brought his expression under control with effort. Then he nodded. "I see," he said, oddly pleased with how even his voice sounded.

Dolgailon laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Haldir turned back to Dolgailon. "My brothers and I will leave to pursue the orcs immediately. We need to return to Lothlorien. What we have found here is...terrible news. Both because I loved Lord Amglaur and Lady Limmiel and because I...I confess that I do not know what will become of Lothlorien without them. The warriors can fight, but the people need something more than warriors to trust in. To look to for leadership."

"I understand," Dolgailon said. Then he looked up, as if just remembering something. "Perhaps I can give you some good news. I met Lords Celeborn, Elrohir and Elladan of Imladris on the plain, near Hadhodrond," he said.

Legolas's gaze darted to his cousin. He had been too busy helping to care for his father and Galithil. He had not heard the tales of where Dolgailon had travelled yet.

"They, along with Mithrandir, the wizard, do you know him?"

Haldir nodded.

"They told me they were concerned about Lothlorien and were traveling there directly. They have likely already arrived. Perhaps they can offer you some sort of aid to organize your defenses and rally your people."

Hope sparked in Haldir's eyes. "My brothers and I will hurry back and hope they arrived in Caras Galadhon safely."

Dolgailon stood. "I will arrange an escort to the forest border for you," he said, turning back to the desk. "Please come with us," he said to his lieutenant, while picking up some papers from the desk. "I would like for you to deliver some messages, on the way back to your patrol."

Legolas stood as well. Haldir's open concern for Lothlorien had reminded him of his father and Amglaur's discussion about military aid. "Commander, may I speak to you and Lord Hallion for a moment before you arrange for Haldir's escort?" He turned to Haldir. "If you could wait, it will only take a moment."

Haldir nodded, if a bit impatiently. Dolgailon looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but also nodded. "Of course, my lord. I believe Lord Hallion is in my office writing some correspondence to the stronghold." He gestured for Legolas to precede him from the room and murmured a request to the lieutenant to take Haldir and his brothers to wait for them in the family sitting room.

Adar - Father Naneth - Mother Daeradar - Grandfather Daernaneth - Grandmother


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: To find and to lose**

_Alas for us all! And for all that walk the world in these after-days. For such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed, Gimli son of Gloin: for your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you might have chosen otherwise. But you have not forsaken your companions..._Legolas, The Fellowship of the Ring

Lying in his own bed, Thranduil listened to the reassuringly normal sounds of his household awakening in the stronghold. The elleth that lit the lamps and fire in his sitting room had just entered his chambers and was adding wood to the fire. The servants were singing while readying the dining room for breakfast. Hallion was greeting the guards at the doors as he passed through the outer corridor to the office at its far end. And Thranduil also caught a word here and there of Legolas speaking with Galithil in his room next door. Legolas typically slept until just before breakfast was served and it was now even earlier than Thranduil normally arose. He wondered what occasion had inspired his son and foster son to get up so early.

Whatever it might be, after nearly a month away from the stronghold, held prisoner in Dolgailon's village while recovering sufficiently from this accursed wound to ride home rather than be carried home, Thranduil was able to thoroughly appreciate the simple familiarity of home.

Next to him, Lindomiel stirred, drew a deep breath and turned over, one arm draping across him as she did. He looked at her in time to see a little smile play across her lips as her arm wrapped around him, drawing her more snugly against him. He closed his eyes momentarily and lost himself in her warmth. She had stayed with him in the village fussing over him, or, in her words, looking after him, there. Naturally, he much preferred his wife's care-and mere presence-over a healer's, so he appreciated her sacrifice. And a sacrifice he knew it to be. It was now nearly winter and Lindomiel had been absent during most of the preparation of the winter foodstuffs. She had a great deal of work to catch up on now that they had finally returned to the stronghold.

Selfishly hoping to hold her in place a moment longer, Thranduil reached to cover her hand with his own and found it resting just above the puckered, pink scar across his abdomen. He sighed as he traced a light pattern on her wrist with his thumb. His wound was largely healed and the scar would eventually fade, just as all the others he had born in the past had faded.

Just as the scar that the orcs had made on Lindomiel's face and neck was almost faded.

He tensed involuntarily at the thought and turned his head to look at her cheek. The idea that an orc had laid its foul hands on his wife... Thranduil closed his eyes in an effort to banish the thought, but his mind refused to turn from it. What was even worse was the fact that Lindomiel had seen a good part of what the orcs had done to her mother and had a fairly accurate grasp of what they had intended to do to her. Thranduil had been utterly horrified to realize that while questioning how she had received those cuts. Amglaur would kill him for allowing such evil to enter into his daughter's understanding.

Except Amglaur was in Mandos along with his wife.

Thranduil had not yet begun to try to understand how he felt about losing Amglaur and Limmiel. He found their loss surprisingly difficult to face.

In an effort to drive away the darkness, Thranduil leaned over and placed a light kiss on Lindomiel's cheek, just over the scar. Then, he traced kisses down her neck, stopping where the scar stopped, just above her breast.

Lindomiel laughed and, grasping his shoulder, pushed him gently-still mindful of his injury-onto his back. She leaned over him, her hair tickling his bare chest, smiling down at him. The light of her smile drove away any lingering shadow in his thoughts.

"You," she said, kissing him briefly on the lips, "are supposed to be resting from our journey here yesterday. You are not supposed to be awake yet, much less instigating...activities," she kissed him again, "that will exhaust you and that you are not yet well enough healed to participate in."

Thranduil grinned at her, grasped the wrist of the arm she was propped up on and pulled, causing Lindomiel to fall onto her back. She laughed as he rolled onto her. "Shall we see what I am capable of?" he whispered against her ear, silencing her answer with another kiss. She was likely correct that his wound still caused him too much pain for this to go very far, but he was more than willing to try to prove her wrong.

To his surprise, Lindomiel did not resist that kiss, indeed she deepened it. When she finally broke it, she did not try to pull away. Instead she drew him closer, both arms around him, face buried against his neck. "Come have a bath with me," she whispered. "I must go down to the kitchens-I truly fear to see what state they are in-but I find I cannot tear myself away from you yet." She tightened her arms around him. "Oh Thranduil, I will never forget how lucky I am to still have you after coming so close to losing you. I always admired Dieneryn's strength. I know I am fortunate to have only a glimpse of what she endured, but even with just that glimpse, I can better appreciate it. I will never take another moment with you for granted again."

Thranduil propped himself up on his elbows, ignoring the flare of pain that caused, and studied Lindomiel carefully. She did not appear even slightly sad, despite her last words. The look she gave him was filled with love-the same he always saw when holding his wife. If anything was different, it was that she seemed even more intently focused on him.

He stifled a sigh as he pushed himself off the bed and drew her up with him, silently leading her to the bathing chamber. During his convalescence, fears over how this battle had affected Lindomiel-and Legolas and Galithil, of course-had weighed on him heavily and there was very little he could do about it. Legolas and Galithil had returned to the stronghold as soon as guards capable of safely escorting them had arrived in the village. They had been beyond his help and he was anxious to speak to them now that he was home.

He had done all he could for Lindomiel-all that she allowed him to do-but that was also very little. He had insisted that she talk to him about the death of her parents-the first close family she had ever lost. And he had kept to himself his own grief and the terror he felt each time he envisioned orcs surrounding her. Unfortunately, her fears of losing him were something he could do nothing about. There was no doubt that he would fight in many more battles or that he could be killed in any one of them. And there was no doubt that she understood that all too well, now. Knowing that, he admired her ability to focus on what she still had, rather than on what she had lost. That was always a difficult endeavor for Thranduil, except in her presence.

They reached the bath and he turned the valve that allowed water from the hot spring to fill the tub. Then he turned and looked at Lindomiel. She was smiling at him as she slipped the buttons that fastened her shift. Except in her presence indeed! As easily as looking at her, all thoughts of the battle and its aftermath were driven from his mind. His wife was his only focus as her shift floated to the floor.

* * *

Thranduil opened the door that led into the corridor and paused, looking for guards, or more importantly, Lindomiel or any of her staff that might be spying for her. No one was present. He stepped quietly into the corridor, closed the door to his bed chambers and quickly covered the short distance between it and the door to his private office. He opened the office door, slipped through it and closed it behind himself, glancing around the office as he stood with his back to its door.

"I am sneaking around my own keep like a thief!" he said out loud to no one with an amused voice. Under normal circumstances, such a statement would be delivered in very bitter tones at best. But after the morning he had just shared with his wife, it would take a great deal to spoil his mood.

He glanced at his desk. The papers awaiting him there might make at least a dent in it.

Thranduil could only imagine the work that awaited him. He could only imagine it because Lindomiel insisted, and the rest of the family had the nerve to support her, that he needed more recovery time before returning to work. He placed a hand over his belt, pressing it there tightly, and sighed. He was fine. Perfectly well healed. Or at least well enough to sit behind his desk. Today would be a working day for him-starting now, before breakfast, so he was well entrenched in work before his family found out and tried to defy him.

He looked around his empty office. It was a little earlier than he and Hallion normally began work, but still Thranduil thought his steward's absence was odd because he had heard him earlier in the corridor. He shrugged. Maybe Hallion was fetching some fruit from the basket in the dining room and intended to work through breakfast. Well, he would soon see he had been smart to assume he would have to work through breakfast. Thranduil expected it would take most of the day for him to catch up on all that he had missed.

He walked further into the room. Only one lamp was lit-the one on the meeting table. The lamp that sat on his desk was missing. He frowned at that. Then he turned that frown on the stack of documents on the table. He normally placed letters that were ready for the couriers in that particular location. If Hallion was not here, how could the morning correspondence already be finished? Perhaps Hallion had finished it the night before. Thranduil walked over to the table and picked up the top letter.

It was written in Legolas's handwriting and had Thranduil's seal attached to it. He scanned it quickly. It appeared to be a perfectly proper response to a request that one of the village leaders made. Either Hallion or Legolas must have accidently afixed the seal to the copy Legolas made instead of the original. Thranduil shrugged and put the letter back in its place. It hardly mattered whose handwriting it was written in. He glanced through the rest of the letters and then walked over to his desk. There were stacks and stacks of papers there. The backlog of work, no doubt.

Stepping behind the desk, Thranduil picked up one of the papers on it and his eyebrows went up. It was again in Legolas's hand. Hallion had written some notes on the bottom of it. Thranduil read more carefully. This was another letter, but it sounded familiar. He walked back over to the letters on the table and shuffled through them, picking one out in particular. Then he held it next to the one from his desk, comparing them. The one that had been left for the couriers was essentially the same as the one on the desk, save that it incorporated the information in the note Hallion had added.

Thranduil laughed lightly. Normally, Hallion read correspondence from the villages and wrote a recommended response, which Thranduil read, made changes to, and Hallion re-wrote. Apparently, Hallion had seen fit to make Legolas his steward during Thranduil's recovery. Well, that was likely a good idea and good experience for Legolas, assuming Hallion managed it carefully.

He returned to his desk to begin wading through the other papers and as he did, a breeze blew lightly against the bottom of his dress robes. He peered around the tapestry that hung behind his desk. The door to the Queen's garden was open.

Thranduil stepped behind the tapestry to see who was in the garden at this hour. It certainly was not Lindomiel-she was too busy. The sight he saw brought him up short. Legolas and Hallion were lying, flat on their backs, next to each other, in the grass under the beech tree in the center of the garden. Their feet were propped up on the bench under the tree. The lamp from the desk was by their heads, providing light for them to read by. Hallion had a thick stack of papers in his hand and Legolas was handing him one more, the last he held.

"That only leaves Maethorness," Legolas was saying as Hallion took the paper. "And the problem of her root cellar caved in by a fallen tree."

Thranduil cringed reflexively in response to that name. That particular village leader was a thorn in his side and always had been.

Hallion openly groaned at the mention of her name.

Thranduil had to laugh at that. He would remind Hallion of his reaction to her the next time his steward forced that horrible elleth on the schedule.

"I spoke to Dolgailon," Legolas said, "as you asked, and he said I could ask Dollion for up to four of the capital guards. I did and Dollion agreed..."

"She asked for ten warriors to help her build another root cellar," Hallion interrupted.

Legolas nodded. "I know. Believe me. I know that. She saw me coming back from Dollion's office and accosted me about her request and why it had not been answered yet. I went ahead and told her that she could have the four warriors, listened to her complaints that four would not be enough and then told her that was all she would get no matter how she complained. Then I listened to her complain some more. So, at least that is over with, but honestly, I would give all the gold in the treasury to see her speak to adar the way she was speaking to me."

"Do not say that in her presence," Hallion replied hastily. "She will speak to him that way gladly and then demand the gold. Trust me, Legolas, she is not just treating you this way. She treats everyone this way. Me. Thranduil. Everyone."

"That must be frightening," Legolas said.

"Indeed," Hallion agreed. "But there is still the matter of the berry harvest that was buried in the cave in. She said her village cannot survive winter without it and while I doubt that is true..." he let his voice drift off.

Legolas laughed and shook his head. "We will not get rid of her until we satisfy that request too," he finished. "I followed Nana around for an hour last night after she and adar arrived-while she was surveying the state of the household. I told her Maethorness's complaint and Nana essentially laughed at it. She said we would send the same supplies to Maethorness's village that the stronghold always sends for winter and that would not include twenty baskets of berries. I will not bother to repeat her speculations regarding Maethorness's honesty or the likelihood that there ever were twenty baskets of berries to be harvested that far south. The point is, she said Maethorness's village could go without tarts this autumn."

"Would the Queen like to tell Maethorness that?" Hallion asked dryly.

"I would not wish Maethorness on Nana when she was feeling well, much less now," Legolas responded. "So I suggested that we just send Maethorness the apples. There are five barrels of them left. I checked. That would be the equivalent of about ten baskets of berries. And the apples can be made into apple butter or a sauce, just as the berries could be preserved. That is the best we can do. Nana said we could send them if we had no other option, so that is what I wrote there for you to consider," he said, pointing at the paper he had handed Hallion.

"Legolas, your adar trades for the apples for our household-primarily for you and Galithil. Are you sure you want to give them to Maethorness."

Legolas turned his head to look at Hallion. "Do you think she will leave the capital if we give her the apples? Because if you do, she can have them. And if Galithil is disappointed that there are no apples, then he can go to her village and ask her to return them."

Now Hallion laughed. "Very well, we will tell her she can have the apples. Is that all of the morning petitions then?"

"It is," Legolas affirmed. He turned his gaze towards the fading stars for long moment. Then he lifted his legs off the bench, sat up and turned to face Hallion. "Is there anything I can do to help you to prepare..." he began. As he turned, he noticed Thranduil leaning in the doorway. He hopped to his feet. "Fair morning, Adar," he said.

Hallion pushed himself up, crumpling some of the papers in his hand as he did, and turned quickly around. "Fair morning, my lord," he echoed as he also stood. Then he tried to shake some of the leaves off his dress robes unobtrusively.

Thranduil burst into laughter, pressing his hand against the pain that caused his wound, and strode over to stand in front of his steward. He reached to pull the leaves from his hair. "Fair morning to you also, my lord Hallion," he said. "Are you having a lovely morning here in the garden?"

Hallion smiled somewhat sheepishly at him. "Yes, my lord. I am."

"Would it be more convenient, or comfortable for you, if we dragged the desk out here," he joked.

"It does not fit through the door, though I am sure Crithad would make another desk for out here," Legolas said. He dissolved into laughter when Thranduil studied him to try to determine if he was serious. "It makes an unpleasant task more bearable, Adar, working here in the garden under the stars," he added, this time completely in earnest.

Thranduil sobered as well. "You have been busy during my convalescence, I see," he said, leaning over to kiss Legolas on the forehead. "I greatly appreciate that."

"He has been busy, my lord," Hallion confirmed quietly. "He has been invaluable."

Legolas smiled at his father's steward.

"As has Galithil," Hallion added. "And Dolgailon. I think you will find everything in order when we go over all that you have missed in your absence." He paused. "Though I was under the impression that you were to rest this morning. I did not think you were yet returning to work."

"You just want to keep dawdling in the garden, Hallion. Or perhaps you have grown accustomed to Legolas's more gentle personality. Either way, your luck has run out. I am going back to work. Today. And I will not be challenged on it." He smiled. "Even if I did have to sneak into my office like a thief," he concluded, heading back to the office door and leaving both Hallion and Legolas with amused, if confused, expressions in response to that statement.

* * *

That afternoon found Thranduil sitting at the council table in the Great Hall, his entire council, minus Lindomiel, but including Legolas and Galithil, around him. He had listened to Dolgailon detail the adaptations he had made in the deployment of the patrols to respond to the changing distribution of the orcs after the fall of Hadhodrond. Golwon had briefed him on the distribution of winter stores to the villages, a task that had gone remarkably well despite Lindomiel's absence. There were a few issues she would have to resolve, but largely all the villages had received the items they normally would. Finally, in addition to complying with the realm's trade agreements with Dale and Esgaroth, Celonhael had apparently been managing the dwarf situation. More dwarves, injured or merely traveling north, had appeared in various locations in the forest, all begging for aid. It had been given. Everyone in Thranduil's household, save the youngest members of it, remembered what it was to be a refugee. Thranduil did not begrudge them what had been given, even if they were dwarves.

Overall, the affairs of the realm were well managed with only a few outstanding matters that needed specifically Thranduil's approval. He was very impressed. This was, by far, the longest he had been away from work since becoming King. He had expected weeks of catch up but, in fact, there was very little for him to do beyond resuming his normal duties. He could not be better pleased.

The door to the Great Hall burst open.

Thranduil automatically glanced at the tables to the side of the Hall where the scribes and his advisors' assistants worked to see if Dannenion and Dolwon were there. Normally only they burst into the Hall in such an unceremonious fashion, but they were both in their normal places, working quietly. Thranduil looked back at the door. His eyebrows rose dramatically.

It was Lindomiel rushing into the room, Galuauth on her heels. Indeed, she was just short of running into the room, face flushed, hair streaming behind her.

Thranduil sensed motion behind him. Conuion, his injured right arm bound in a sling against his side to protect the still damaged bones and muscles, had stepped closer to the table in response to the Queen's hurried approach.

By the time Thranduil turned back around, Lindomiel was already standing at the far end of the table. Belatedly, he made to stand. The other members of the council seemed to be awakened by the movement. They did the same.

"Sit," Lindomiel whispered, leaning over the table and dismissing the courtesy with a wave of her hand. She did not spare a glance at anyone but Cunuion. "Do not react to what I am about to say. We do not want to do anything to alert anyone," she continued without a pause, still whispering.

Thranduil tensed, but gave no outward sign that his wife's words had alarmed him. A glance around the table showed everyone else behaving similarly. Even Legolas and Galithil were merely looking at the table.

"I was going to the beehive behind the training field. Arthiel told me that she fears it is declining and I wanted to see for myself because, if it is, that means we will have to go a much longer distance for honey." She paused. "While I was there, I saw Demil in the forest talking to someone. I could not see who."

Despite Lindomiel's warning to not react, Thranduil's eyes flew open wide. Demil! Fuilin's brother! Here? "Are you certain?" he asked in a low voice. Conuion echoed him.

Lindomiel nodded. "Quite certain. I knew Fuilin and his brothers fairly well when the capital was in the south. They tried plying me for information long before they targeted Amoneth."

"There is more," Galuauth interjected. "I met Demil in Lord Dolgailon's village when I went there with Legolas and Galithil. He was introduced to us as Bronil. By Dannenion."

That earned Galuauth a sharp glance from Legolas, Galithil and Dolgailon. Thranduil studied them.

Behind him, Conuion was signaling for Tulus, Colloth, and Galudiron who were idling at the back of the Hall since their charges were attending the council meeting. They strode quickly over to the table, obviously curious as to what was being discussed. "Demil is here," Conuion said, with no preamble. He pointed at Tulus and Colloth. "Go with Galuauth and bring him here." They left with just a nod in acknowledgement. Then Conuion turned to Legolas and Galithil. "You spoke to Demil?" he asked, obviously expecting more explanation.

Legolas nodded. "Dannenion did introduce him to us, as Galuauth said. They were sitting together with Seregon, Galasserch and Moralfien listening to a song about Nimrodel." He paused and looked apologetically at Lindomiel. "It caught our attention because we heard Moralfien comment that Nimrodel did not approve of Sindar presence in Lothlorien. She said she thought Dannenion and Dolwon would be interested in the song because of that. Bronil laughed along with Dannenion and Dolwon at that comment."

Thranduil's hands clenched into fists. "Well, I did not have long to wait for Dannenion and Dolwon to betray the trust I gave them," he growled, turning to order Conuion to arrest them as well.

"My lord, hear this first, before you act," Galithil said, leaning forward.

Thranduil turned to him impatiently.

"If Bronil or Demil...whatever his name may be, is truly Fuinil's brother, this is likely more serious than simply finding Dannenion and Dolwon consorting with wanted criminals. The night before we left the village, you gave me messages for the Southern Patrol and the village guards, asking for ten members of the Patrol to meet us at the border to escort Amglaur and Limmiel to Lothlorien." He paused.

"I remember," Thranduil said.

"Bronil was the courier to the patrol that evening. I gave him your messages." He turned to Dolgailon. "It seems Tulus was correct," he said.

Thranduil's brow furrowed. Why would Galithil think that was important? And what was Tulus correct about? Then he tensed as realization dawned. No warriors had met them, that was certain. Galithil-and Tulus, apparently-thought Demil had diverted the warriors? So the King's family would come to harm? But why would he do that? He could not know that orcs would be in that particular place. It had to be a coincidence.

Dolgailon obviously thought differently. His face held a fury that Thranduil had never seen mar it. "When Galithil told me your orders for more warriors at the border and guards along the path had not been met by either the patrol or the village," he explained, seeing Thranduil's obvious confusion, "I spoke to Seregon. He is the head of the village guard. He told me that patrolling the path to the border had been in his regular rotation that day, but Bronil asked to switch duties with him. And when I spoke to the Patrol, they told me they never received your request for more warriors at the border. On the contrary, they told me Bronil had sent them north of the village looking for a spider nest. Seregon and I looked for Bronil to question him, but we could not find him." Dolgailon made a bitter face. "I never liked Bronil, but Seregon told me he was generally considered an unreliable guard, and that he often disappeared from the village with no explanation, so he was not surprised by this lapse. I accepted that explanation for his actions and his absence and I did not ask the patrols to search for him."

"If you knew this," Thranduil asked, his voice sharp, "and apparently Tulus, Galithil and Legolas knew this, why am I only hearing it now?"

Dolgailon straightened reflexively in his chair. "You were not conscious for a week after that battle. And then you remained in the village while I returned here. Tulus and I discussed what we suspected with Hallion and with Conuion when he was able to respond to it. They were here in the stronghold, you were not. None of us thought it would be a good idea to send our suspicions to the village in a letter to you."

Thranduil scowled. "Well, I will grant you that. Conuion, how did you decide to respond to this?"

"Tulus was going to go to Lord Dolgailon's village when we thought enough time had passed that Manadhien might have returned to it. Tulus thought he might have seen her there and he thinks the best chance of catching her is to allow her time to grow complacent again. We will have to discuss how capturing Demil might affect those plans, assuming that we do."

"I want Tulus to go looking for her now. I want her caught if she is involved in this attack," Thranduil ordered. "And I want them," he jerked his chin in Dannenion and Dolwon's direction. "Now."

"Yes, my lord," Conuion said, already signaling to Galudiron. "Go tell Belloth to bring Dannenion and Dolwon to the King, but tell him to wait until you return to the table. And warn him that Dannenion and Dolwon might resist, with violence, so be prepared. Be prepared yourself," he concluded with a glance at Legolas and Galithil.

Galudiron nodded once and jogged over to where Belloth stood in his place next to the dais.

Thranduil's attention had turned to his family. "Legolas, Galithil, Lindomiel. Leave. Through the door behind the throne. Immediately."

Legolas and Galithil stood to do as they were told. Lindomiel only folded her arms across her chest and turned to Dolgailon. "I do not understand how you can think that Demil was involved in the attack that killed my parents. Even if he did send the patrol somewhere else, what could he hope to accomplish by doing that? How could he have known orcs would be in that particular place along the border to harm us?" she whispered. She did not move.

"The arrows that killed your adar and that hit your naneth were shot from a long bow, my lady," Dolgailon answered.

Thranduil's head snapped to him at that added detail and its implication. Dolgailon not only thought Demil had seen orcs along the route he and his family would take and left them to fall victim to them, he thought Demil participated in the attack somehow!

"Tulus found that suspicious," Dolgailon continued. "He also thought the battle in general was unusually skillfully strategized for orcs, that the number of orcs was abnormally high and that it was highly coincidental that they had poisoned their weapons. I admit, he did convince me that the attack might have been planned. By Elves. By Manadhien."

Lindomiel's eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hands.

"When I learned that Bronil did not deliver the King's orders to the patrol and that it was he that was supposed to be guarding the path to the border, I suspected he might have something to do with it, but I had no idea who he was. That he had any connection to Manadhien. Now that I know Bronil is Fuilin's brother, I obviously see my mistake."

By the time Dolgailon had finished that explanation, Belloth was standing over Dannenion and Dolwon, asking them to come speak to the King.

"Leave. Now," Thranduil repeated. If Demil was now in the business of personally killing members of his family, Thranduil wanted his wife out of the Hall.

Lindomiel scowled at him and pulled out a chair at the table. "There is no possibility I am leaving, Thranduil. I intend to find out why, exactly, my adar and naneth died." She sat.

Thranduil glared at her. It was extremely rare for her to publicly defy him and doing so meant she would not be moved. He drew a breath to argue with her just the same, but he was cut off by Legolas.

"Please, my lord, may we stay also?" he asked quietly, gesturing to Galithil. "Like Naneth, we have a right to find out exactly what caused daeradar and daernaneth's death. Moreover, I saw the long bow that shot the arrows Dolgailon mentioned. If Bronil has his bow with him, I can say if it was his that I saw."

Thranduil's jaw clenched. He wanted his children out of the Hall also.

"We are capable of defending ourselves if this should come to violence, my lord," Galithil said softly into the silence.

"Against orcs you have proven yourselves. I will grant you that," Thranduil responded. "How easily will you draw your blades against another elf?"

Thranduil watched a slightly ill expression claim both Legolas and Galithil, but it was too late. Dannenion and Dolwon were only steps away from the table.

"Sit down," he ordered quietly as Belloth stopped Dannenion and Dolwon a safe distance away from the table and the King. Despite his lingering injury, Conuion positioned himself between them and the King.

Dannenion glanced at him irritably. "My lord?" he asked, obviously waiting to be told why he had been summoned.

Thranduil turned to face him fully. "I have some questions for you both," he said, voice low and barely controlled. "I advise you to consider your answers very carefully before you speak. Were you in Dolgailon's village visiting with Fuilin, Demil and Mauril?"

Dannenion's gaze never flickered from Thranduil's face. "Yes, my lord," he answered calmly. Dolwon shot him a glance and answered the same. "That is to say, we spoke to Demil there," Dannenion continued. "We were visiting my wife's cousin on our way to visit my cousin in Selwon's village. But we did see Demil, at least, in the village and we did speak to him. Legolas and Galithil joined that conversation," he concluded, nodding to the children.

Thranduil regarded Dannenion closely. He had expected both Dannenion and Dolwon to deny they had spoken to Demil, deny they had realized it was him, deny that it was him and claim it was someone else...anything to avoid the truth, as they had done during their original trial. The fact that they had answered without protest...it gave him pause.

"Demil was not how you introduced him," Legolas commented, interrupting Thranduil's thoughts.

Dannenion shook his head. "He uses the name Bronil now, he told us, so I introduced him using that name."

"I give you your freedom and the first thing you do is visit your fellow conspirators-elves who are wanted criminals? How do you think I am going to respond to that?" Thranduil asked. Dannenion had to have some insane excuse for the trap he was caught in. Thranduil wanted to know what it was in order to determine if it was important.

Dannenion adopted a surprised expression. Dolwon rather ruined it by nearly choking on the breath he drew.

"They are still wanted, my lord?" Dannenion asked. "I always assumed that you had exiled Demil and his brothers for some period of time since I never saw them under arrest here, as Dolwon, Tulus and I were, and since I never heard of them in the forest again. We even asked Demil when we saw him how he had managed such a short exile when we ourselves had to argue for release from arrest. I suppose, now that I think about it, he never really answered that question, did he Dolwon?"

Dolwon was looking at Dannenion with wide eyes. He shook his head quickly.

Thranduil loosed a scoffing laugh. "Do you think me a fool, Dannenion? You cannot hope that I will believe you did not know Fuilin, Demil and Mauril were wanted."

Dannenion drew himself up, ready to protest, but Thranduil did not pause to let him speak.

"I have another, more important question I want you to answer and again, I advise you to consider your answer very carefully. Honesty might move me to a mercy that I am currently not feeling. My question is: what part did you play in this latest conspiracy to kill me and my family?"

Dannenion drew a breath as if to answer. Then his brows drew together and his gaze focused on the King for a long moment. When he turned it to the floor, his eyes had widened slightly and for the first time in this conversation he appeared surprised. "Are you saying that the orc attack on your family was planned, my lord?" he asked. His voice held none of its normal over-confidence.

Thranduil looked at Dolwon. He was staring at the King, though he normally hardly managed to even meet his gaze. He appeared simultaneously astonished and disgusted.

"I think you know perfectly well that it was planned, Dannenion, having taken part in the planning yourself. I am asking you what your role was," Thranduil responded.

Dannenion dropped to his knees, causing Thranduil's eyes to widen dramatically. "I swear to you, my lord, on my life, on my wife's life and on my son and daughter's lives, I had nothing to do with any plot to kill you. I might not always agree with you...I will even admit that I still, occasionally, harbor a desire to see you driven from your throne-though I have not done anything to act on that desire. But plotting to kill you? No, I will have no part in that. None at all."

"Nor was I involved, my lord," Dolwon added, mimicking Dannenion and dropping to his knees. "We went south, free to visit our kin for the first time in forty years, and that is all we did. We visited family and friends. Selwon can tell you that on the days before that attack and on the day of it, we were in his village, visiting our cousins there. He will confirm both Dannenion and I were there, my lord. I swear it."

Thranduil left them in place, studying them carefully. He almost believed them.

The door to the Hall flew open again. This time Tulus and Galuauth entered. Between them they held an elf, each grasping one of his arms. Colloth walked behind them carrying a bow, quiver and sword. The elf, who was still struggling even as the doors to the Hall closed behind him, had torn clothes. He had obviously put up a fight.

Thranduil looked back at Dannenion and Dolwon. "You may stand, but do not move otherwise," he said to them briefly.

Tulus and Galuauth reached the table where Thranduil sat and there they hesitated. To pass one side of the table with their prisoner led them straight by Legolas and Galithil. The other side is where Lindomiel sat. Tulus apparently was unwilling to walk Demil-Thranduil could glimpse his face now, despite the fact that his struggles had caused his hair to fall across it-so close to either Thranduil's children or wife. Wise judgement, Thranduil agreed and signaled for them to stay where they were.

Tulus released his hold on Demil with one hand and reached into the quiver that Colloth was carrying, withdrawing one arrow from it and handing it to Dolgailon. Dolgailon took it and sat back in his chair staring at Demil. He looked as if he might be ill. Thranduil watched that exchange silently and with no outward reaction-the arrows that Dolgailon had mentioned obviously matched. He turned to his prisoner.

"What is your name?" he asked, curious to see what name Demil would give.

He looked up, jerking his head to try to fling his hair from his face. His eyes narrowed upon seeing Legolas, Galithil and Dolgailon. Then he glared contemptuously at Dannenion and Dolwon. "Bronil," he answered with a sneer.

"Your right name," Thranduil specified. "The one your father gave you."

Demil laughed now. "Morisinde Ulcamartendur," he replied, his chin jutting out.

Thranduil glanced quickly at Hallion. His steward leaned towards him. "Morisinde is Demil in Quenya," he whispered. "Ulcamarte would be Manadh in Sindarin. The suffix means 'servant of.'"

Thranduil's heart raced uncomfortably. It had been a very long time since he was certain that he was in the presence of one of the elves he had fought in Menegroth and Sirion, but he was fairly certain this elf was one of them. He did not recognize him, to be sure. He simply had the same arrogance those elves had. And his eyes held a deep, long born darkness. Thranduil moved his hand away from the knife at his belt lest his innate instinct to draw it against such a presence overpower his conscious will.

"You are known to me as Demil. Your brothers are Fuilin and Mauril. I ordered you and your brothers to leave the capital when it was still south of the mountains. Correct?" Thranduil asked.

"Correct," the elf replied, still looking down his nose at Thranduil, despite the position he was in.

"What are you doing in the capital now?"

"I was not aware that I am not allowed in this capital," Demil said. "I was visiting cousins here."

Thranduil laughed. "So many cousins to visit," he commented, throwing a glance at Dannenion and Dolwon. "What is your cousin's name? Who are you visiting here?"

Demil did not reply to that. He simply glanced at Tulus and then turned his gaze to study the tapestry behind the throne.

Thranduil considered him a long moment. He had not truly expected an answer to that question, though he wanted one. All of the people he would have expected Demil to be meeting with had been in this room for hours. He would be saddened to find out Dannenion or Dolwon's wives, or worse still, young sons were involved in this conspiracy now.

Thranduil turned away from questions that he knew would not be answered to ones he thought he could find answers to. He was certain from what Dolgailon had already told him that Demil had some role in this latest conspiracy. He still had doubts about Dannenion and Dolwon. He turned to them. "I am going to ask you another question," he said. "One last time, I advise you to answer wisely. Forty years ago, you were convicted of conspiring to have the Queen and Lady Amoneth abducted by Men in order to force me from my throne. Is Demil one of the elves you conspired with?"

Unlike Tulus, Dannenion and Dolwon had never cooperated in any way with the investigation of that crime. Their willingness or lack thereof to cooperate now would go a long way in determining if Thranduil trusted any of the answers they had already given him.

Dannenion looked with open fear between Demil, Tulus and finally Thranduil. Dolwon could not even manage that. His eyes were tightly shut and his head was bowed.

"He was, my lord," Dannenion finally whispered.

"Traitors are made to pay," Demil spat at him.

"Silence," Thranduil intervened. "You are a fool if you think that Dannenion just told me anything I did not already know. I know you plotted with Men to abduct my wife."

Demil's gaze flicked to Tulus and the sneer returned to his face, but he said nothing.

"What I do not know for certain," Thranduil continued, "is how, precisely, you were involved in the latest conspiracy, this time to murder my family. Tell me Demil, have you been serving as a guard in Lord Dolgailon's village?"

"Lord Dolgailon can tell you that I was," Demil answered.

Thranduil nodded. "He also tells me that you were charged to carry requests that I made to have more guards and more warriors along the path and at the border when I was traveling with my family. Is he correct in that statement as well?"

Thranduil had taken care not to mention Galithil's name in that question, but Demil turned his glare on him just the same. Galithil returned his gaze with no change in his own.

"Yes," Demil said, still facing Galithil.

"And when Dolgailon asked why those requests were not met, he was told that you switched duties to guard the path yourself that day and that you sent the Southern Patrol looking for spiders rather than to the border as I ordered. If I can assume that is also true, perhaps you can explain to me why you were not on your patrol when my family and I were attacked. Perhaps you can explain why you did not give the patrol my request for more warriors."

Demil said nothing. He appeared to be weighing what he might say and he was studying Dolgailon while he did so.

"One question at a time, then," Thranduil said allowing his tone to grow harsh in order to interrupt Demil's thoughts. "Did you patrol the path to the border the day my family and I traveled there?"

"I forgot that I had asked Seregon to switch with me," Demil finally said. "Seregon already questioned me about this when I passed through the village on my way here. I admitted that I did my regular patrol, late, so no one patrolled the path to the border that day. I have already been dismissed from the village guard for my carelessness. But that was all it was. Carelessness. Not conspiracy."

"And the Southern Patrol?" Thranduil continued. "You did not feel it was necessary to give them my request for warriors to meet me at the border?"

"I was never given such a message," Demil replied.

"Not true," Galithil and Legolas replied in unison.

"I was with Galithil when he gave the message to Demil," Legolas said.

"And I gave him both your written message and I told him what it contained, to emphasize the importance of getting it to the patrol quickly," Galithil added.

"They are lying," Demil said calmly. "They are children and were probably caught up in the merrymaking. They forgot to deliver your message."

"Another lie," Galuauth said quietly. "I waited at the foot of the steps to the guards' talan, but I escorted Lords Galithil and Legolas to deliver that message. I heard Lord Galithil speaking to you about it. I specifically remember hearing your voice assure him that the King's message would be delivered."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and looked at Demil to see how he would try to explain that. Demil pressed his lips together angrily and remained silent. Better, Thranduil thought. He far preferred silence over lies. He turned to Colloth. "Is that his bow?"

Colloth nodded. "Yes, my lord. We took it and this sword from him."

"My lord," Dolgailon interrupted. "These arrows, minus the black X on the fletchings, match exactly the arrow that killed Amglaur and Limmiel," he said, passing Thranduil the arrow. Its shaft was painted silver and its fletchings were bright blue. "I still have one of those arrows."

Dolwon gasped.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Dannenion whispered, looking between the arrow and Demil, a horrified expression on his face.

Thranduil shot a glance at Lindomiel. She was pale, but her expression was calm. Thranduil doubted his own was so composed.

"Orcs must have found some arrows that I lost while hunting," Demil was trying to protest.

"Is that the bow you saw, Legolas?" Thranduil asked, speaking over him.

That question caused Demil to freeze. He watched Legolas like a spider watches prey near its web. Thranduil regretted bringing his son under Demil's direct scrutiny, but this was a critical point. He had to know if Demil had shot the arrow that killed Amglaur and Limmiel

"It is not the bow," Legolas concluded after studying it for a long moment. He took the bow from Colloth. "This is the design I saw," he indicated a pair of trees carved into the broadest part of the arm of the bow. "But this," he traced his finger along an arrow or possibly spear across the trees, "was not on the bow I saw. I am certain of it."

Thranduil held out his hand for the bow and Legolas passed it to him. Thranduil studied it. "Whose heraldry do these trees signify?" he asked, facing the decoration towards Demil. "This is the device of the House you serve and the arrow represents that you are a guard of that House, correct? Whose House is it?"

Demil raised his chin and said nothing.

Thranduil stood and leaned over the table. "I know you serve Manadhien or Marti or whatever other names she goes by. I know the bow that Legolas saw was hers. I want to know her proper name. The name she gave Thingol in his court." That earned him a startled look from Demil. "Oh yes, I have heard that Manadhien was in Menegroth and had no love for my father. Now tell me a name I would recognize from that time. And tell me her father's name. The name of her House. I want to know why she has held a grudge against my family for three Ages of this world."

Demil smiled in response to that and remained silent.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed and in one motion he snapped the arm of the bow in half over his knee and handed the fragment with the tree on it to Hallion. "You find out whose device that is," he ordered and he heard his steward's quiet, 'Yes, my lord,' in response as he cast the remains of the bow on the floor behind him. He remained focused on Demil. "You plotted with Men to abduct my wife. You plotted with Orcs to kill my wife. With Orcs!" he growled, fury rising. "Your mistress killed my wife's mother and father. With her own hands," he fairly shouted.

"Such outrage," Demil mocked. "Such a hypocrit. You have killed plenty of elves yourself. I saw it with my own eyes."

Thranduil was thrown back a step by that accusation. And by the confirmation that Demil was, in fact, one of the elves that fought along side the sons of Feanor. "You accuse me of kinslaying?" he finally said, voice shaking with rage. "Yes. I have slain elves. Elves that attacked me in my home in Menegroth. I was forced to fight them to protect my own life and the lives of my mother and aunts. I was forced again to defend myself and my Queen against elves that attacked me in my home in Sirion, where my family refuged after being driven out of Menegroth. You will stand before me and confess that you are one of the Noldor that attacked Menegroth and Sirion? Is that what you are foolish enough to be saying to me, Dior's cousin?"

Demil only returned his gaze unflinchingly.

"Obviously you believe my family offended the one you serve somehow. If all that you hold against me is killing one of your own in Menegroth or Sirion, you have yourself to blame for that. You attacked me, not the other way around. But what does Lindomiel have to do with this? She was born two Ages after the events you are accusing me of taking part in. What was her crime in your mind? How does she deserve the death you intended for her."

"Lindomiel makes you happy," Demil replied, offhandedly, "and we intend to take your happiness from you, person by person, until you are left utterly alone just as you have left the last remaining of our House alone. She," he jerked his chin towards Lindomiel, "is the logical person to start with in that endeavor because it is she that enables you to perpetuate Oropher's line. But never fear, we will deprive you of everyone at this table eventually."

Thranduil stopped breathing. In the recesses of his mind, he heard Lindomiel's gasp and his council erupt into shouts, but that did not surface into his conscious thoughts over the swirling rage that drove him to draw the knife at his belt. He stepped around the end of the table and advanced on Demil. Hallion and Conuion backed hurriedly out of his way. Thranduil was vaguely aware of Tulus turning his head and closing his eyes...of Galuauth's jaw falling open and his gaze fixed on the knife in the King's hand, but Thranduil only fully registered the distance between he and Demil closing swiftly.

Thranduil's shoulder struck something standing in his way, blocking his path to Demil.

"What are you doing?" a voice whispered in his ear.

Thranduil tore his gaze from Demil long enough to see who had dared offer this defiance. His eyes flew open when he saw Legolas. His son stood in front of him, practically chest to chest with him, his slight form remarkably unmoving, his gaze unflinching. "Adar, what are you doing?" he repeated so softly no one else could have heard him over the voices of his council.

Thranduil drew a breath to order Legolas aside.

"The wise are never eager to deal out death in judgment," someone called from the back of the Hall.

Mithrandir! He was walking slowly up the center aisle of the Hall.

Thranduil looked from him to Legolas and then glanced at his courtiers at the tables lining the sides of the Hall. The room was silent, he realized, save for the very soft shuffle of Mithrandir's boots on the stone floor.

He drew a deep breath and took a small step back from his son

"You are allied with orcs, Demil," he said, his voice much more even than his temper at the moment. "I confess myself very tempted to treat you the same way I treat them. But Legolas and Mithrandir are right. I will not do that."

The question was, what would he do with him? Eryn Galen was a very large forest. If Thranduil exiled Demil, he would simply hide in the forest as he had done for the last Age and continue plotting against the throne. But how could Thranduil imprison him? It would be impossible to hold him in the capital as he had held Dannenion and Dolwon. This conversation had been held in open court. Everyone in the capital would be aware of Demil's crime by supper time and it was very unlikely they would tolerate his presence or understand why Thranduil allowed it. And even if Thranduil swore everyone in the room to silence, he still could not imagine allowing Demil to remain here. He was willing to kill with his own hands. Thranduil would have to live in fear that every time he or any member of his family set foot onto the Green, Demil might plant an arrow in their back. The only alternative was to hold him in a cell. Thranduil loosed a derisive snort. His sword would offer Demil a more merciful death than being left to languish in that manner. What could he possibly possibly do with him?

"Have the guards escort him to the Havens and put him on a ship," Hallion whispered into his ear after coming to stand behind Thranduil. "Send him to Manwe, rather than Mandos, and let the Valar sort him out."

Thranduil half turned and smirked at his steward. That suggestion had some merit.

Demil laughed. "My lord's House was banned from the ships after the War of Wrath. The Valar have already dealt with me to the extent that they will."

Thranduil blinked at that. "If even the Valar do not want him, what am I to do with him?" he said out loud.

"Men brand their outlaws with their crime on their forehead," Engwe commented dryly. "Pity that scars heal so well on Elves."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, now turning to look at his uncle. Somehow he had never heard of that punishment. He appreciated its value, but as Engwe had already commented, it was not a method that would solve his problem, even it was one he was willing to employ. But assuring that everyone knew of Demil's crime was precisely what he needed to do. That and remove him from the forest.

Thranduil raised a hand, signaling for Conuion. The guard was instantly at his side. "You arrange for as many guards as you see fit to take Demil to the camps of each of the patrols. Show his face to every warrior in this realm and tell them that it is not to be seen in this forest again. Then you take him to every village in this forest and do the same with the village leaders. Once that is done, take him to the other side of the Northmen's territory and into Rhun. There give him a knife and bow and release him in the land of his allies." He turned back to Demil. "Hear my words and hear them well, Demil: I have been persuaded to show you mercy, but if you threaten any of my family, ever again...if I see you in this forest again...I will kill you on sight. Do you understand me?"

"We understand each other," Demil replied.

Thranduil glared at him, anger flaring again at that veiled threat. "Get him out of my sight," he ordered.

Galuauth pulled Demil from the room. As he did, a low buzz arose from the tables at the sides of the Hall, the scribes and other courtiers already whispering about all they had just witnessed, so shocked by it that they made no pretense otherwise. Normally that would elicit a reprimand from Thranduil, but in this instance, he could not deny they had a right to be scandalized. He was too, to be honest. Elves plotting with Orcs!

Elves plotting. He glanced at Dannenion and Dolwon. The horrified expressions that had claimed them when Dolgailon made his announcement about the arrows had not faded. And they appeared to be sincere. "I can hardly give credence to what I am about to say," Thranduil said to them, "but I believe that you were not involved in this plot. I do not, however, believe that you thought consorting Demil was acceptable..."

"I swear we did not intend to, my lord," Dannenion interrupted. "But when he saw us, we were afraid to shun him. You saw how he threatened us just now. And we left the village as soon as possible. The very next day."

Dolwon was nodding and watching Galuauth lead Demil away, still looking frightened.

"Is that true?" Thranduil asked Galithil.

"It is true that they left the day after we arrived, my lord," Galithil answered.

"Please, my lord," Dolwon whispered. "If you send us with him, as soon as your guards leave us, Demil will kill us for betraying him."

"And if you are allied with him, that is nothing less than what you have earned," Thranduil retorted. Then he studied them silently. He still did not believe that they had unintentionally encountered Manadhien's servants, but he did believe that Dannenion and Dolwon were sincerely shocked that Manadhien had directly tried to kill his family. Perhaps that was progress that should be allowed to blossom.

"Get out of my sight before I change my mind and send you with Demil," he finally said.

Dannenion and Dolwon both bowed and fled back to the scribes' tables.

Thranduil snorted. That was the first time either Dannenion or Dolwon had bowed to him without first being ordered to do so. He turned his back to them, intending to return to his chair. As he turned, his shoulder brushed against Legolas, still standing next to him. There were very few people on the face of Arda that had the courage to do what Legolas had just done. And fewer still that he would tolerate it from. Thranduil wondered if his son even realized that. He leveled a cool glare on him, intending to ask. Legolas returned it briefly before he looked down. As he did, Thranduil thought he saw a flicker of the same sort of fear in Legolas's eyes that he occasionally saw in the faces of his courtiers and even councilors. Thranduil frowned, instantly deciding he did not like that look on his son. Before he could speak or even make an effort to soften his expression, Legolas took a step back from him and knelt on one knee. He understood, it seemed.

"Stand," Thranduil said. Legolas did and now met his father's gaze with an impassive one of his own, though he could not hide his apprehension. Indeed, the entire council was watching this encounter tensely. Lindomiel appeared ready to rise from her chair to intervene. Thranduil took a step closer to Legolas to speak into his ear. "Be certain, ion nin, that you-you and your naneth alone-are the only two people in this realm that could publicly behave as you just did and expect to not to regret it dearly. I advise you to use that privilege very wisely."

"Yes, my lord," Legolas replied quietly.

Thranduil took a deep breath and put an arm around Legolas's shoulder, steering him back to his chair at the table. His councilors quickly turned back around in their chairs and focused their gazes anywhere but on Thranduil. "Mithrandir, you are certainly a surprise," Thranduil said in as light a tone as he could muster in an attempt to return to some modicum of normality. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked while continuing to his own chair at the head of the table. He indicated a place for Mithrandir to sit and sat himself. He felt completely exhausted.

"I bring news from Lothlorien, my lord," Mithrandir said.

Everyone in the family stopped their whispered conversations and paid attention to that.

"What news?" Lindomiel asked, leaning forward, her brow puckered with worry.

Mithrandir looked at her, his expression full of pity. It only made Thranduil more tense. "Perhaps I should deliver the worst news first and get that over with," he said softly. "You know that Amroth went with Nimrodel to the Havens?"

Lindomiel nodded.

"We had news in Lothlorien from the Havens that Amroth and Nimrodel and her ladies were separated on the journey. Amroth arrived at the Havens, but Nimrodel never did."

Lindomiel closed her eyes.

"I am afraid this only gets worse," Mithrandir continued in a quiet voice. "Apparently, Amroth and the others who intended to sail with him waited on the boat for a good while, hoping she would come because Amroth was unwilling to leave without her and the others were unwilling to leave without their king. One night, a storm blew the ship from its moorings and out to sea. When Amroth realized what had happened...well, one of the ship builders working on the docks reported that he heard Amroth calling for Nimrodel and then he saw him jump overboard. He never reached the shore."

Lindomiel said nothing. She remained silent, with her eyes closed.

Mithrandir reached for her hand and held it between both his own. "I am sorry to have to deliver such news to you so soon after you lost your parents, but Amroth's council insisted you would want to be told and I agreed, of course, that you had the right to know. I promised them I would tell you."

Lindomiel opened her eyes and looked down at the table for a long moment-long enough that Thranduil was about to stand to escort her from the Hall. Before he could, she looked back at Mithrandir, her expression perfectly composed. "They were very right that I want to know my cousin's fate. He and I were very close when I was a child, though he was much older than I."

Mithrandir nodded, patting her hand.

Thranduil was about to suggest they retire to the family quarters to take time to mourn Amroth, but again he was forestalled, this time by Mithrandir. "With Amroth's loss, there is the matter of Lothlorien being left without a King," he said, this time directing himself to Thranduil.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. He had been deeply concerned about Lothlorien's fate during his lengthy convalescence. Unfortunately, there was little he could do about it. He could not imagine what Mithrandir intended to say on that topic.

"Celeborn, Elrohir, Elladan and I were in Lothlorien when Haldir returned there from this realm with news of Amglaur's fate." Thranduil watched Mithradnir squeeze Lindomiel's hand at the mention of her father. "Perhaps Lord Dolgailon mentioned to you that we were there?"

Thranduil vaguely remembered Dolgailon speaking to him about seeing Mithrandir, Celeborn and Elrond's sons but he had been fairly heavily drugged for his injury and did not remember the details. He only nodded, anxious to see where Mithrandir was slowly leading him.

"With the combined news of Amroth and Amglaur's demise," Mithrandir continued, "the people determined to remain in Lothlorien were trying to organize the leadership necessary to defend and manage the forest. Some of Amroth's council appeared to know Celeborn, either from Menegroth or from his previous visits to Lothlorien. They invited him to remain in Lothlorien and he accepted that invitation."

"They have named Celeborn their King?" Thranduil exclaimed and immediately began to analyze what that would mean. Celeborn was an experienced leader-a noble elf from Thingol's court. He would make Lothlorien a much stronger realm than Amroth had managed to make it, and given the increasing threats from Dol Guldur, that was definitely a good thing. Moreover, he was Thranduil's distant cousin and one of his father's closest friends. Thus, relations with Lothlorien would remain strong, to the extent that they could given the difficulties of communication and travel between the two realms.

"Celeborn did not agree to take such a title," Mithrandir was answering. "He and Galadriel will remain in Lothlorien as its caretakers only, they said."

Galadriel! Thranduil's gaze snapped back to Mithrandir. How had he forgotten her? "I confess that I am not comfortable with Galadriel in Lothlorien," he interrupted, thinking out loud.

"Why not?" Engwe asked. "While you have been in Dolgailon's village recovering, we have been trying to imagine what we could do to help secure Lothlorien, but we found no logistically acceptable solution. Celeborn has just provided the perfect one. Granted, the Noldo is an unwanted appendage to it,"

That comment elicited several snorts, especially from Hallion and Celonhael.

"But Celeborn has successfully controlled her for the last Age," Engwe continued without pause. "I think we should be grateful to him for his willingness to manage Lothlorien."

Mithrandir was looking at Thranduil, his thick eyebrows raised.

Thranduil merely shook his head. "My reasons are not to be discussed in open council," he said, glancing at the scribes and his councilors' assistants. They were gathering their materials and preparing to leave for the day. Or, truthfully, in council at all, he added silently. Saying that out loud would only inspire curiosity that he could not indulge. Thranduil stood raising everyone else to their feet as well. "It has been a trying day and Mithrandir has delivered difficult news. Shall we go back to the family quarters for some rest before dinner?"

Lindomiel nodded, pressing Mithrandir's hand for a moment before withdrawing her own. "I will tell the cook that we have a guest for dinner. If you will excuse me," she concluded, directing herself to Thranduil.

He bowed to her in response, the movement making his wound scream. He quickly pressed his hand against his belt and ignored Lindomiel's departing look. She would have words with him later about working this long, even if she acknowledged that Demil and Lothlorien were both subjects that required his attention.

* * *

"Come on, Legolas!" Galithil called, leaving the door to the corridor open after poking his head into his cousin's room.

"Go with Maidhien and Nana," Legolas shouted back at him. "I will be right there."

Legolas was just as anxious as his cousin to go to the Green. It had been weeks since he had been free to join his friends there, as busy as he had been helping Hallion. And tonight especially-most of the populace knew by now that Mithrandir had arrived. Their distrust of foreigners did not include the Wizards. In fact, most people loved Radagast and Mithrandir. The Green would be exploding with merrymaking tonight.

Legolas's hand hovered over his bow. He wanted to join the contests this evening, but he did not care to do anything else to invoke his father's wrath. When he stood in the Hall and blocked Thranduil's path to Demil, he had done so without thinking...automatically, because he truly could not imagine what his father intended to do and could not believe it might be what it appeared to be. The full implications of what he had done did not even occur to him until he saw Hallion's expression. His father's only public response was shockingly restrained and Legolas could not help but worry that another, private response might be looming.

Despite that, he reached for the bow. Nana enjoyed watching him compete. After hearing Amroth's fate, she would likely need some cheer. Legolas drew a deep breath. He had never met Amroth, but his mother spoke of him warmly-she told wonderful stories about him. Hearing of his drowning so soon after her own parents' deaths! Sometimes Legolas did not know where his mother's strength came from, but he admired it.

He picked up his quiver and exited his room while still fastening its straps. Everyone was just disappearing through the doors at the end of the corridor. He hurried his pace to catch up with them.

"You did not seem terribly pleased to hear that Celeborn and Galadriel will rule Lothlorien," Mithrandir's deep voice drifted from the sitting room.

Legolas frowned and stopped before he passed that door. Apparently his father was entertaining the Wizard in the sitting room rather than joining the family on the lawn. Legolas had thought his father's reaction to that particular part of Mithrandir's news was odd. He wondered if his father intended to discuss it more now. No further sound came from the room.

"You do not approve of your cousin ruling Lothlorien?" Mithrandir pressed. "Surely the presence there of a strong ally will fortify Rhovanion. I would think you would be pleased."

"As I said in the Hall, it is not Celeborn's presence that concerns me, Mithrandir," his father answered softly. "I am pleased to have my cousin in Lothlorien."

"You do not like Galadriel?" Mithrandir said, voice rising a bit in surprise. "She is so much like you."

Thranduil openly snorted in response to that. "The reason why I do not feel comfortable with her in Lothlorien, so close to Dol Guldur, is one that must not be discussed," he responded.

"I see," Mithrandir replied.

And from his tone of voice, he did see. Legolas could not imagine how the Wizard had gleaned any idea of why his father disapproved of Galadriel's presence from the answer he had been given. Mysterious. And mysteries burned away at Legolas's curiosity. He took a silent step closer to the wall, waiting to see if they would say anything more. As he did, Galuauth's comment about childish impulsiveness versus adult disobedience floated into his mind. If his father were going to discuss something that 'must not be discussed' with the Wizard, eavesdropping outside this door definitely fell into the category of adult disobedience, no matter how much he wanted to hear it, no matter how long he had been curious why his father distrusted Galadriel so much.

With a resigned sigh, he stepped forward and into view of the occupants of the sitting room, continuing on his way to the Green.

"Legolas!" Mithrandir's voice called after him.

Legolas stopped, but did not immediately turn. He truly wanted to go to the Green, but there was nothing for it. He adopted a courteous smile, spun around and took a few steps into the sitting room. "Fair evening, Mithrandir. Are you and Adar going to join the merrymaking on the Green? I think folks there are rather hoping to see some fireworks-you have given enough to Radagast to give my cousins and I as gifts, that you are firmly associated with them now. I doubt you carry fireworks about with you while scouting trouble in foreign lands, though."

Mithrandir smiled at him and the merely courteous smile Legolas wore took on true warmth. Radagast always had that same effect, too, Legolas thought. Every time he visited, he was fun to play with, when Legolas was much younger, or talk to once he grew older.

His father normally enjoyed Radagast's visits as well, but Thranduil was studying Mithrandir intently, a very grave expression on his face.

"I fear I do not have any fireworks with me. That will please only your lord father, I imagine," Mithrandir said with a wink. Then he patted the seat of the chair next to him, inviting Legolas to sit.

Thranduil hated the fireworks, that was true. He feared they would burn down the forest. Legolas looked at his father. Could the mention of fireworks be what had put him on edge, Legolas wondered as he obediently sat on the edge of the seat Mithrandir had indicated.

"But I would like to join that merrymaking, none-the-less," Mithrandir continued without pause. "Woodelves are excellent at merrymaking." He turned back to Thranduil, apparently oblivious to the stare leveled on him. "Your wine does not hurt matters. Will there be any of it available tonight?"

Thranduil leaned back in his chair without taking his eyes off the Wizard. "I can have Galion bring a barrel from the cellars in your honor, Mithrandir," he replied.

Mithrandir's smile again lit the room in appreciation. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed. He turned back to Legolas and looked him up and down. "I have heard a great deal about you from Radagast, naturally," he said. "And I have learned a great deal more the little I have seen of you since my arrival. Do you intend to participate in some of the Woodelves' famous archery contests this evening?"

Legolas's gaze shifted from Mithrandir to his father. He had his bow with him. He could hardly deny that he intended to participate in the games. That was not something he wanted to call attention to however. Fortunately he was spared the need to answer.

"Please explain your interest in my son, Mithrandir," Thranduil said quietly. He had never ceased studying the Wizard.

Legolas could not hide his surprise at that question. His father seemed almost distrustful. In the presence of any other foreigner, if his father reacted this way, Legolas would be instantly grateful to be fully armed. In this instance, he was completely confused. He was no fool. Radagast and Mithrandir were more than old Men. That would be clear, if for no other reason than stories of Radagast went back almost a thousand years. And Legolas knew Thranduil considered both Radagast and Mithrandir allies. So his suspicious glare set Legolas on edge.

Mithrandir only laughed. "I do appreciate your directness, Thranduil," he said. "It is so much easier than the machinations one sees in so many courts."

Thranduil nodded, but he did not smile. "Answer the question," he said.

Mithrandir shrugged. "Legolas impressed me in your court this afternoon," he said.

Legolas openly cringed. That was the last thing he wanted to remind his father of, especially when he was in this mood.

"It took courage, standing up to you under those circumstances. Or perhaps-even better-it was merely instinct. In either case, naturally I approve of the mercy he was willing to show that Elf you sentenced to exile." Mithrandir turned back to Legolas. "I once visited Nienna quite often. I learned from her the value of pity and of mercy. Those who can employ it show true wisdom."

Legolas's first thought was to hope that Mithrandir's words would help temper his father's reaction to the reminder of his behavior in court. Then what Mithrandir had said about Nienna struck him. He blinked and struggled to keep his mouth shut. "You visited Nienna quite often?" he finally managed to whisper, looking from Mithrandir to his father.

Mithrandir's bushy eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "You have not mentioned to your son and heir who Radagast and I are?" he asked, amused.

Thranduil also appeared to be amused. "I was under the impression that who you are is also a topic that is not to be discussed." Then he focused on Legolas. "It is a topic that may not be discussed. With anyone. Not even Hallion," he said firmly.

"Understood," Legolas replied, still processing the implication of Mithrandir's comment. He had been in Valinor? How could that be? Elves did not return from Valinor, and Mithrandir was no Elf even if they did. But other than Elves, the only beings allowed in Valinor... He had to be...Maia?

Mithrandir shook his head and stood. "I am going to partake in the merrymaking," he said, patting Legolas's shoulder. "I hope you join me soon." Then, with a bow to Thranduil, he turned and left the room.

Legolas did not watch him. He was still looking at his father in shock.

Thranduil smiled at him. "He is Maia," he confirmed. "Sent by Manwe. Radagast told me that he is Yavanna's servant."

Legolas loosed a soft whistle and looked down at his lap. "I knew they are not Men, of course. I suppose I never questioned further than that, because you obviously trust them."

Thranduil stood and walked over to the cart that held wine and small treats for the family. He reached for the decanter that held Dorwinion. "I trust them. I believe them when they say they will do what they can against Sauron. I simply do not know what that will be, and that lack of knowledge makes me wary. You have made a fine impression on Mithrandir, that is certain. None-the-less, I advise you to remain as far under his notice as you can," he said as he poured a goblet of wine. "But I recognize I cannot control whether you do that or not." He surprised Legolas by handing him the goblet. Legolas took it automatically. "You are very near to adulthood," Thranduil continued as he poured another goblet. "Much nearer than I had realized until the last few weeks. All too soon your fate will be your own to manage." Thranduil returned to his chair and put one hand on its arm to help ease himself into it. "Like Mithrandir, I have been very impressed with you recently, Legolas." He shook his head. "I am always impressed with you. Just more so recently. I am very pleased with the adult my son is becoming."

Legolas was almost as shocked to hear his father refer to him as 'near to adulthood' as he had been to hear Mithrandir was a Maia. "Thank you, adar," he said, not really certain how to respond.

Thranduil fixed him with a serious gaze. "I meant what I said to you in court."

Legolas steeled himself in response to that change in topic. He had expected, and knew he deserved, this reprimand. He was determined to respond respectfully to whatever his father would say.

"But I do not deny that you were right to stop me. I would have regretted very bitterly what I intended to do. I did not truly intend it," he corrected himself quickly. "Intent requires thought and I was not thinking. I was reacting. I cannot even describe to you the fury I felt when Demil spoke as he did of your naneth. And the rest of our family." He paused. "I would have had his blood on my hands before I managed to stop myself," he concluded, voice barely a whisper.

Legolas stared at his father. Instead of reprimanding him...this was almost a confession. "I think everyone present was infuriated by almost everything Demil said, adar," he finally said in an effort to offer his father some degree of absolution. He seemed to need it.

Thranduil looked back it him. "When Demil accused me of kinslaying, I was certainly infuriated. I imagine you were shocked to hear there was some truth to what he said."

Legolas's brow furrowed and he suddenly found it difficult to meet his father's gaze. "I knew you were in Menegroth when the sons of Feanor attacked it, adar. And Sirion. I did not imagine that you simply walked away from either of those battles without having to fight. I admit, I have never, before today, allowed that fact to draw to its natural conclusion. I cannot imagine being forced into such a position. Fighting the orcs was bad enough." He finally looked up at him. "You were not much older than I am when this happened, were you?" he asked, trying to imagine what it would be like to fight, not orcs, but elves.

"I was exactly the age you are now when the Dwarves attacked Menegroth and my cousin Ninglor was killed fighting along side me," Thranduil answered. "Celegorm attacked us around four years later, so I still was not of age. My father sent me to flee with my naneth and aunts, but we still had to fight our way out. I do not think I killed any elves in that attack-I only attempted to prevent those that attacked us from killing us. I know my adar killed some though. He fought throughout the entire battle for Menegroth, and it lasted nearly a month. I was an adult when Maedhros attacked Sirion-85 or so, I think. I fought in that battle. I fought because I saw that, even though some of Maedhros's warriors refused to kill the elves that did not defend themselves, others did. They killed even those who would not fight. I attacked those elves and aimed to kill them. I admit I did it willingly."

Legolas had closed his eyes part way through that monologue. No wonder his father never spoke of Menegroth or Sirion, if that was what his life was like at Legolas's age. "I think I understand a little better why you have always been so adamant that my cousins and I know something more than just weapons training, adar."

"I do want more for you, ion nin," Thranduil replied. "But I will long be grateful for the day that you persuaded me to give you sword training. I am alive now because you had it and were able to defend yourselves and me."

Legolas's gaze snapped back to his father. He had said that before, in Dolgailon's village when he first awoke. Legolas had thought him delirious. He was clearly in his right mind now, and he appeared serious. Legolas had been too preoccupied by Tulus's suspicion and later too busy working with Hallion to give his father's words much thought. Frankly, he had avoided thinking of that battle at all, if he could help it. Hearing his father speak so frankly of how close he came to dying... Legolas stood and stepped over to the chair where Thranduil was sitting. He knelt next to it and drew his father into an embrace. Thranduil returned it, holding Legolas close for a long moment. Then he sat back.

"Go out and enjoy some merrymaking with your naneth and cousins, Legolas," he said.

"You are coming," Legolas replied, sitting back on his heels. It was not really a question.

Thranduil shook his head. "I am exhausted and I confess that this wound aches. I do not care to dance or even sing."

"Then come and listen," Legolas said, standing and tugging at his father's arm. "My cousin's and I are not the only ones who need a little merrymaking, adar."

* * *

When Legolas and Thranduil stepped off the bridge and onto the Green, the usual shouts of greeting that met the King's arrival had drowned out the song being song near the wine barrels. Thranduil led Legolas in that direction, apparently determined to enjoy at least his share of the wine flowing so freely on the Green. As they approached, Legolas was a little surprised to see his mother was the one leading the song, accompanied by Engwe and his harp. They often sang with the minstrels, but Legolas had not expected his mother to be in the mood to do so tonight. When he and Thranduil got close enough to hear the words over the laughter they produced, Legolas had been reduced to staring at his mother. It was a song about Amglaur. Not a mournful song or a heroic song. It was cheerful. Jaunty even. As Lindomiel began singing the chorus again, all the elves around her, and Mithrandir, joined in.

It's the howl of the pack,

the joy of the chase,

the suspense of the prowl,

the thrill of the hunt.

the delight of the conquest.

That is why it is grand

to be a wolf.

Thranduil's eyebrows went up. "My adar used to sing that song when I was young," he said. "But when he sang it, it was about him, not Amglaur." He shook his head. "Amglaur probably appropriated it and made it his own."

Legolas laughed lightly. "Is it possible that your adar and nana's adar made it up together, about both of them?" he asked.

Thranduil snorted. "Not likely," he replied while listening to the song and watching Lindomiel sing it. His expression faded fairly rapidly from contentment, if not happiness, at seeing Lindomiel apparently enjoying herself, to anger to poorly concealed grief.

Legolas studied him with obvious curiosity until Thranduil adopted an annoyed expression.

"I will miss Amglaur," he admitted. "He is your naneth's adar. Of course I cared for him." The annoyed expression intensified. "Difficult as he made it for me to do so. It is hard to care for someone who so thoroughly dislikes you. And your entire family." He pointed at Legolas. "You are the only member of the House of Oropher that Amglaur approved of and do not let that go to your head. He had to approve of his daughter's son and if he could have taken you to Lothlorien and raised you himself so that you were nothing like me, he would have done so in the blink of an eye."

Legolas was openly laughing by the time his father had stopped speaking.

"It is not a joking matter, Legolas," Thranduil said. "I nearly did not win your daeradar's consent to marry your naneth. He truly did not like me."

That only made Legolas laugh harder. "Adar, if I promised to keep daeradar's confidence, but only because the promise served to preserve his pride, am I released from that promise now that he is in Mandos?"

That made Thranduil turn a curious look on his son. "I am tempted to say 'yes' simply because I want to hear what he told you. But remember, if you or I ever go to Valinor, we will see Amglaur again, and he may still value his pride."

Legolas thought about that for a moment. Then he shook his head. His father's happiness right now meant more to him than a promise Amglaur was silly to require and only possibly would have the opportunity to upbraid him for breaking. "I have no doubt that song was written by both my daeradars," he said, grinning at Thranduil. "They, along with Celeborn, Galathil, Uncle Engwe and Amdir were the Wolf Pack-so named by the High King himself, so daeradar told me. And if daeradar could have stolen me from you, it would have been to ensure I became the Wolf he expected me to be. Of course, part of the reason he wanted that was to annoy you, as payback for the fact that his daughter married a Wolf and caused him worry."

Thranduil burst out laughing. "I did not believe you until your last sentence. That part I believe. Amglaur told you this, did he?"

Legolas nodded, quite pleased to have made his father laugh.

The song about wolves had ended. Now Mithrandir was singing a different song. One that Legolas recognized, though not the version he was singing.

Where now she wanders none can tell,

In sunlight or in shade;

For lost of yore was Nimrodel

And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey

Beneath the mountain-lee

Awaited her for many a day

Beside the roaring sea.

A wind by night in Northern lands

Arose, and loud it cried,

And drove the ship from elven-strands

Across the streaming tide.

When dawn came dim the land was lost,

The mountains sinking grey

Beyond the heaving waves that tossed

Their plumes of blinding spray.

Amroth beheld the fading shore

Now low beyond the swell,

And cursed the faithless ship that bore

Him far from Nimrodel.

Of old he was an Elven-king,

A lord of tree and glen,

When golden were the boughs in spring

In fair Lothlorien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,

As arrow from the string,

And dive into the water deep,

As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in his flowing hair,

The foam about him shone;

Afar they saw him strong and fair

Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,

And on the Hither Shore

No tidings Elven-folk have heard

Of Amroth evermore.

Legolas frowned. That was not how Maenil had sung the song. Obviously, they had added to it a good deal to fit Amroth and Nimrodel's fates. Once Mithrandir had finished singing, the minstrels, Lindomiel and a good number of people took up the song again, repeating it.

"I do not understand how she can sing that," Thranduil commented softly, looking at Lindomiel.

Legolas shook his head. "Neither do I. I was thinking earlier that Nana has far more strength than I."

Thranduil loosed a short laugh. "I have thought that several times over the last month, but I am not yet ready to listen to songs of Amroth or Amglaur." He turned and scanned the Green, gaze finally settling on the archery targets partially hidden by the boughs of the Oak. "Come on, Legolas. You have your bow. You obviously intended to participate in those games tonight. Let us see if you are as good as I have heard you are."

Legolas's eyebrows went up, but he did not resist as his father led him towards the Oak.

"We have to make sure your daeradar is satisfied with you if you ever have to confess to him that you broke his confidence," Thranduil continued, airily. "It might save you from his wrath." Then his expression soured, albeit so dramatically that Legolas wondered if he was entirely serious. "Besides, we both know that is where all your cousins have disappeared. We would not want to give any of them, including Dolgailon, the mistaken impression that they have gone beneath my notice."

Legolas laughed out loud. Now that sounded more like his father!

* * *

AN: Obviously, the song Mithrandir has brought from Lothlorien is the song Legolas sings for the Fellowship after they cross the Nimrodel on their way between Moria and Lothlorien.

There is one more chapter to this story (an epilogue). Sorry that this chapter is so insanely long. There was no good place to split it.

Adar-Father

Naneth-Mother

Daeradar-Grandfather


	7. Chapter 7

**Epilogue: Desiring above all to sow fear and disunion**

_And desiring above all to sow fear and disunion among the Eldar, he commanded the Orcs to take alive any of them that they could and bring them bound to Angband; and some he so daunted by the terror of his eyes that they needed no chains more, but walked ever in fear of him, doing his will wherever they might be._ Simarillion

Tulus crouched high up in the crown of the broad oak that grew on the northern corner of the village. From this vantage point, he could observe nearly anything happening in the village and he was astonished by what he had seen over the last week. He came here hoping to find some sign of Manadhien, or at least Fuinil or Mauril. He had not seen Fuinil and his brother, and that was the best news he was going to be able to deliver to the King. When Thranduil...and Dolgailon...and likely, even Galithil...heard that Manadhien was not only living, openly, in Aradunnon's former village, but leading it! Well, Thranduil was going to explode. It was as simple as that. Just like one of Mithrandir's fireworks.

And Dolgailon! Tulus sincerely felt sorry for him. He long had a great affection for his son's young friend, despite who Dolgailon's father was. And now Dolgailon was going to learn that he had interacted with Manadhien without recognizing what she was. He had given his approval for the elleth who intended to assassinate his mother to lead his village in his absence.

Tulus had a good deal of experience with Manadhien. He was very familiar with her deceptions. He was not surprised that someone as young and unacquainted with deep evil as Dolgailon would make the mistake of trusting her. But Dolgailon was always very hard on himself. This would be a very difficult blow for him that Tulus sincerely wished he did not have to deliver, despite how glad he was to finally have the opportunity to bring Manadhien before Thranduil.

Manadhien exited her talan, heading in the direction of the Hall in the village, just as she had done every morning for the last week. She spent most of the morning there, managing the village business. Tulus watched her until she stepped off the path and began to cross the courtyard. Then he swiftly descended through the trees towards her talan. There was one more thing he wanted to know before he moved to arrest her. She received correspondence daily, from a series of couriers that came from the north and who Tulus did not recognize. He wanted to know who that correspondence came from and what it contained. Whoever it might be, they were likely also someone who would deserve arrest, and Tulus needed to find out their identities, so that he could arrange to have them arrested simultaneously with his arrest of Manadhien, in the interest of not allowing any of these conspirators to escape. He expected-hoped-the correspondents would be Dannenion and Dolwon. But he had one remaining fear that he needed to prove wrong.

He slipped out of the trees and quickly pushed aside the thick curtains that covered the balcony entrance, blocking out the increasingly colder winter winds. Then he stepped into the talan's sitting room. Scanning it, he saw a desk just to his left. He strode over to it and pulled the handles on its drawers. Locked. Whatever was in those drawers was likely what he was looking for. He pulled out his knife and began working to force the lock of the right hand drawer. After some effort, its mechanism snapped and the drawer opened freely. Tulus frowned. The drawer contained a box. He pulled it from the drawer and set it on the table. Sure enough, it was locked too. He picked up his knife again.

Just as he was slipping it under the box's lid to pry it up, the talan door opened and Manadhien rushed through it, followed by a few flakes of snow. Taken off guard, Tulus froze.

Manadhien closed the door behind her and began to scan the room. She also froze and her eyes widened when her gaze finally fell upon Tulus at her desk.

Tulus shifted his grasp on his knife, preparing to throw it-to defend himself, if need be, or to disable her if she tried to run. He raised the knife when Manadhien reached towards her belt.

Instead of pulling a weapon, Manadhien withdrew a delicate silver chain with several keys on it from a pocket in her gown. She tossed them onto the desk. "Please use the key rather than breaking my box," she said, glaring at him.

He ignored the keys and instead stepped out from behind the desk and approached her cautiously. "I am taking you to the capital to face the King," he said.

She made a scoffing noise. "I doubt that." She pointed to a cloak hanging on the back of the chair behind the desk. "Will you bring me that cloak?" she asked. "It has begun to snow and I forgot it. I do not like cold weather."

Tulus ignored her request. "I will mention that to the king. Perhaps he will have his guards escort you to Forochel instead of Rhun."

Manadhien scowled and swept past him, leaving the desk between them to avoid his grasp. Tulus spun around to follow her swift movement, expecting her to flee through the balcony, but she only picked up her cloak, threw it over her shoulders and then reached for the keys she had thrown on the desk. "You will want to read these before we go to see the King," she said, unlocking the box and withdrawing a large stack of letters from it. "You will understand better what you are accused of if you do." She offered them to him.

Tulus did not take them.

"And what Glilavan is accused of," she added, still holding out the letters.

That made Tulus's gaze flick between her face and her hand. She smiled at him and he tensed. He remembered that smile. It utterly repulsed him.

Manadhien dropped the letters on the desk and reached back into the box, picking up a strip of paper that was rolled tightly―it had been carried by bird. "At least read this," she said.

Again, Tulus made no move to take the paper.

She shrugged and unrolled it herself. Then she began reading:

_Manadhien, _

_Thranduil, Lindomiel, Limmiel and additional guards-Conuion for certain, but who else or even how many, I do not know―are travelling to the village. Amglaur at least, will travel along the western path to the forest border to return to Lothlorien. He asked Thranduil to keep Limmiel in the stronghold, but she refused and will likely insist on traveling with him. Thranduil and Lindomiel argued whether Lindomiel will accompany Amglaur as far as the border. Thranduil has forbidden it, but she wishes to. He has not asked for additional patrols along that path, as yet, but he will ask for an escort for Amglaur to Lorien. Once Amglaur leaves, Thranduil will bring his family home immediately, along the northern path. The patrol has already been informed of those plans and told to keep the passage north cleared and watched. I have enclosed copies of the orders Engwe sent to the patrol and the most current reports from the patrol, detailing their positions. If an attempt is to be made, the best option is to make it on the western path, since no specific orders have yet been sent for that area._

She turned it around, writing facing Tulus, and held it out, level with his face.

Tulus drew a deep, steadying breath. Though the writing was tiny, it was unmistakably Glilavan's.

"Glilavan is an excellent correspondent," Manadhien said cheerfully. She opened several letters in rapid succession and let them fall, one next to the other until they lined the length of the desk. All were in Glilavan's hand. "Of course, you may not be aware how good a correspondent you, yourself, are." She reached for another stack of papers in the box and began opening them. When she had several in her hand, she fanned them out and placed them on the edge of the desk closest to Tulus. His mouth fell open.

"Where...? How did you get those?" He was now looking down at reports-ones that he had written-on the few occasions when he had escorted Legolas away from the stronghold, most recently, the hunting trip where Legolas had ordered the arrest of three Men.

"I will tell the King that I got them from you-that is all that you need to know about how I got them," Manadhien answered. "I will tell him that you sent them to me in order to keep me informed of Legolas's movements in preparation to betray him. Combined with these letters that Glilavan has written, which could have no other purpose than to give me the information I need to conceal myself and plan attacks on the King's family, I think he will believe me. What do you think?"

Tulus made no reply. His mind was racing, trying to figure out how she laid hands on his own reports. Surely not through Glilavan. Dannenion and Dolwon, he finally concluded. As Golwon's assistants, they had access to the library and to the offices where those reports were stored. They must have stolen and sent them. He eyed the other papers in the box.

"Copies of patrol reports, information regarding Dolgailon's travels, Lindomiel and Celonhael's trips to Esgaroth-those are particularly interesting. As are Legolas's hunting trips," Manadhien said in response to Tulus's gaze. She flipped a few more papers from the box to the desk. "I am now particularly interested in Legolas's travels." She pushed her cloak off her left shoulder and pulled the neckline of her gown aside, revealing a scar. She rubbed her shoulder, grimacing as she did. "I was leaving him alone until you recovered some good sense and quit guarding him. I was trying to make sure you did not have to be injured or killed. Glilavan earned that favor for you. But now that the little troll shot me, I am more interested in Legolas than Lindomiel. Better to finish him now, than wait until he is even more skilled with that bow and therefore more difficult to deal with."

Tulus's hand tightened on his knife and he took a step forward to seize her, intentionally reaching for her injured arm.

She swiftly dodged around to the side of the desk, now drawing her own knife. "I will kill you if you lay hands on me," she spat. "If you kill me-or even manage to subdue me and bring me to Thranduil-you will seriously regret it. Do not forget: you do not have Fuilin or Mauril. If you bring me before Thranduil, I will name both you and Glilavan as my accomplices and I have enough evidence to convict you both." She pointed to the letters. "If Thranduil executes me, I will make sure to tell him enough to make him do the same to you. And to Glilavan. Menawhile, Fuinil and Mauril will still be free to finish my work, but you will no longer be around to protect your dear prince and king. If Thranduil exiles me...I heard Legolas persuaded him to only exile Demil-how touching-then I will return to this forest. I have pursued the House of Oropher for three Ages of this world. I will not stop. But if he exiles you and Glilavan with me-and, again, I will make sure you receive the same punishment that I do-you will never see this forest again and neither will Glilavan. Your son has been useful, but if you cause me any more difficulty, I will kill him before your eyes. I will make sure he suffers and you are there to see it. If I fail to kill him, Fuinil and Mauril will see to it. Betray me and you are ensuring Glilavan's death."

Tulus's gaze again darted to the letters. Just the one she read was enough to convict Glilavan, there was no doubt. Whoever Thranduil believed helped to plan that attack-and that letter's intent was certainly to help plan it-he would, at least, exile. He had been ready to kill Demil. Against his will, an image of Thranduil advancing on Glilavan, as he had on Demil, flashed through his mind. The mere thought of it was enough to force Tulus to gasp for breath.

"Your last son, Tulus," Manadhien whispered. "Your last living kin this side of the Sea. All you have left. You lost your wife after she faded giving you Glilavan. If Thranduil executes you, and you have the opportunity to see your wife again, how will you tell her that you let her youngest son...her last son... the son she gave herself for...come to death?"

Tulus closed his eyes for a brief moment, forcing himself not to listen to her. He knew her cunning speech all too well.

"I do not want to lose Glilavan, obviously," he cut her off to silence her before he fell under the spell of her words. "But I will not allow Legolas or Thranduil or anyone else to come to harm either. You are going to speak to the king and if he executes you, even if Fuinil and Mauril still pursue him or Glilavan, your death will mean one less person is ready to cause either of them harm."

"And if Thranduil executes you along with me, one less person will be guarding them," she replied. "An even trade. A fair trade." She paused. "Let us be honest with each other, Tulus. Neither of us care about Thranduil. You, however, care about your son. He is nothing more than a tool in my mind and his death means nothing to me. What will it mean to you?" She gathered the letters into one pile, stuffed them back in the box and closed it. "I will go with you to face the king. I will not resist." She tucked the box under her arm. "You can try to destroy these along the way." She offered him the box. "Or you can burn them now. There are many more, including Glilavan's letter describing the patrol deployments when Lindomiel and Amoneth were captured by Men. Fuinil will make sure those reach the king's hands long before we arrive in the capital. Shall we leave now?"

Tulus remained silent. His sense of duty immediately answered, 'yes, we shall,' but his heart-his father's heart-held him firmly in place. His heart won out. Thranduil would execute or exile Glilavan, and Tulus did not doubt Manadhien's threat that either way, Glilavan would die. He knew that he could not watch his last child die, much less have a hand in causing his death, no matter how Glilavan's own deeds contributed to that end. Glilavan was only a child when Tulus first involved himself with Manadhien. He blamed himself for her influence over him, so he would help extricate him from her grasp if he could. But how?

If killing Manadhien himself, here and now, would accomplish that goal, he would send her to Mandos without another thought and follow her, to accept his own doom for such an evil deed. But Tulus believed her threat that Fuinil and Mauril would avenge her by betraying Glilavan. He had to somehow remove Glilavan from both Manadhien and Thranduil's reach. How he would do that, especially since his son was not willing to abandon his service to Manadhien, he did not know, but he would find a way.

In response to his hesitation, Manadhien smiled her poisonous smile. She knew he would not arrest her. It was almost enough to push him to do it. Almost. Instead, he took a step back, unwilling to turn his back on her, moving towards the balcony. "You win this battle," he said. And then he silently added, 'but this is not over.' He was not stupid enough to openly provoke her by saying it out loud. He would bide his time until he could get Glilavan out of her way. And he would move quickly, because now his days were numbered. She would not trust him to stay silent for long, much less forever.

"Tulus," she said, and she sounded very much like the king she hated. "If you betray me, the war I will wage against you will be one in which everyone that I even suspect you care about will suffer. Everyone. Keep your mouth shut."

"As I said, you win," Tulus said, hands out in a pacifying gesture. "You are right. I will never sacrifice Glilavan. Or anyone else. I am leaving and I will not say a word about you to anyone." He made an effort to look and sound as cowed as he could.

She watched him leave and made no move to follow him, but Tulus did not doubt that she was already plotting his death. Just as well. He was off to plot hers.

* * *

Tulus listened as the cooper and his wife hurried along the path outside his cottage, talking loudly about the repair of their family's traps. Neither, apparently, felt they should be responsible for that work. A few minutes later, Crithad walked by, speaking somewhat breathlessly to Brethil, telling him to be careful. Tulus could just see them through the gap in the closed curtains, carrying a heavy package between them-a delivery of something Crithad had made, no doubt. Soon Tulus could smell the smoke of hearth fires, as families began preparing the evening meal. Many were likely already eating when the door to Tulus's cottage opened.

Glilavan walked in, closed the door, tossed his cloak and bow on the stand next to the door, and began working on his quiver straps. Once the quiver followed the bow, he turned towards the sitting room, unfastening his sword belt.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, drawing in a sharp breath, taking a quick step back and partially drawing his sword. Just as quickly, he slumped against a chair, let the sword slide back into its scabbard and scowled angrily at his father. "You are very lucky to not have a blade in your chest! Why would you sit silently in the dark? Say something! Light a lamp! Anything so that I know you are home." He took another calming breath and pulled off his sword. "Where did you disappear to anyway? You have been gone for over a week with no word or explanation."

"I do have a blade in my chest," Tulus replied quietly, ignoring the questions and standing to approach his son. "And you have put it there." He took advantage of Glilavan's confusion to take the sword he had just removed from his hands. He tossed it onto some cushions on the far side of the small room. "I have just come from Lord Dolgailon's village."

Glilavan's expression was immediately shuttered.

"Of course, since Lord Dolgailon is rarely there, I suppose it is more appropriate to refer to it as Manadhien's village," Tulus added.

"Did you arrest her?" Glilavan asked. "Does the king have her now?"

Tulus's entire body tensed when his son did not appear even slightly surprised. He had expected no less, but he had held on to a spark of hope, just the same. "No," he replied, shaking his head. "I certainly intended to arrest her. That is what the king sent me to do. But I did not."

Glilavan made an impatient face. "Why not?"

"You know perfectly well why not," Tulus answered, allowing his fury to show fully. "My only question for you is this: did you know, when you sent her those patrol reports, what she would use them for?"

Glilavan started to adopt an innocent expression. Tulus grabbed him by the front of his tunic and shook him once hard enough to make his head snap back. "Did you know, when you sent those patrol reports, that Manadhien would use them to plot to kill Thranduil and Lindomiel?" he repeated without releasing his son's tunic. "And do not for an instant pretend you do not know what I am talking about. Manadhien showed me your letters to her. A stack of them. She has enough evidence to ensure Thranduil would cut you to pieces with his own hands on the Green so the entire populace could watch. Now answer my question."

"I am not denying that I sent Manadhien the troop reports," Glilavan answered, drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances. "I did send the reports. And I know she intended to use them to plot Amglaur's and Thranduil's deaths. This forest and Lothlorien too would be better off without Sindarin rule."

Tulus's hand fell from Glilavan's tunic. For years he had allowed his son-and himself-to deny involvement with Manadhien. He could no longer do that now that he had direct evidence of Glilavan's involvement. But he had never for a moment entertained the idea that Glilavan knew about, much less approved of, Manadhien's plan to kill the king. "Who are you?" he asked, taking a step back and looking his son up and down. "No son that I raised would think about...I can barely say it...killing another Elf."

Glilavan shook his head, the mildly annoyed expression back on his face. "There is no other way to rid the forest of him, adar. And if we are going to stop the orcs from destroying this forest, we need better leadership. Like Manadhien's." He stepped around Tulus and began stirring the embers in the fireplace. "Do you see the patrol reports as Legolas's guard? Since Manadhien began leading that village, orcs attacks around it have declined dramatically. There has not even been one skirmish with orcs near that village this entire year." He tossed a log onto the grate. "I attribute that improvement largely to her leadership and especially the fact that she provided swords for the guards. The orcs are afraid to go near the village now."

Tulus stared at him a long moment. "First of all," he finally said, "village guards cannot hope to eliminate orcs from this forest. Numbers alone should make that obvious to you-there are a few hundred village guards in the entire forest and thousands of orcs in the south. And you are the captain of the training program, for pity's sake! Are the guards that come to join the patrols ready, in your mind, to serve in the Southern Patrol?"

"No," Glilavan answered quickly, "but they are when they leave the program."

"They are not and as a warrior that served in that patrol for the better part of this Age, you know it," Tulus answered back. "Second of all, there are not enough warriors and guards combined to drive the Evil from Dol Guldur. Did you see the report Lord Dolgailon made? Did you see what he said he saw there? Would you, as a captain, feel it is a good choice to lead warriors-any amount of warriors-there? Honestly? Is there any strategy that could successfully drive that many well armed enemies from a fortified position?"

Glilavan did not answer that.

"Third, Thranduil has done all he could to arm the warriors as best as he could. You do not remember this, because you had not been born, but before Thranduil became king, none of the warriors in this forest had swords. Not a single one. If he has spent all the funds he can raise and there are no more funds to spend, we are still better off now than we were before and no denying it."

Glilavan rolled his eyes and Tulus grabbed his arm to make him pay attention.

"Fourth and foremost: if there have been no orc attacks around that village, it is because Manadhien is commanding the orcs as one of the Evil One's forces, not because she has successfully fought them off. You, ion nin, are serving the very Evil you wish to drive out of this forest."

Glilavan loosed a scoffing laugh. "That is absurd..."

"She stood amongst the orcs and shot arrows at Lindomiel," Tulus interrupted. "I saw it with my own eyes. Explain to me how an Elf stands amongst orcs. Explain it. And while you are explaining things, explain to me why she would attack Lindomiel and not the king if the true reason she is striking against them is to aid the forest. Lindomiel has nothing to do with this realm's military." He remained silent for a moment to give Glilavan a chance to speak. "She is not working to aid the forest," he continued when Glilavan said nothing. "She is enacting revenge against Thranduil. Demil confessed, when Thranduil questioned him, that Manadhien intended to hurt Thranduil by eliminating the people he loves. Manadhien herself confessed to me, when I spoke to her in the village, that she intends to target Legolas next. Legolas! A child! Because he shot her, thinking her an orc!"

"So I have heard," Glilavan replied, looking at his father evenly.

Tulus's jaw dropped. "So you have heard!" he repeated. "Lest you have forgotten, I am Legolas's guard. Whatever she intends to do to kill him has to kill me first. Have you no concern over that?"

"My only concern is how I might arrange the attack so that you will not be killed when Legolas is," Glilavan replied.

Tulus found it difficult to draw breath. "Is my only concession to be that you do not wish your father dead along side the king and his family? How has your mind come to these thoughts, Glilavan? How?"

Glilavan stood up from where he was sitting on the hearth and paced angrily into the sitting room. "Where is my naneth?" he asked, waving his arm around the empty room. "Where are my brothers and my sister? My uncles?"

Tulus closed his eyes briefly before looking back at Glilavan, open grief in his eyes.

"Gone, all of them. My oldest brother and all of my uncles lost, specifically, standing next to Thranduil's father. My mother faded from the losses she suffered. I never knew any of them." Glilavan's expression grew hard. "But when I was still a child I watched my father move the few fragments of his household that he still managed to preserve across the forest because Thranduil turned him out. Why? For having a conversation about Lindomiel stripping on the riverbank..."

"Glilavan," Tulus interrupted with a warning tone.

But Glilavan did not stop. "I watched my father beg for a position in the patrols and be repeatedly denied that position. And when I became a warrior myself, I never became an officer until Dolgailon made me one, and that was here in the capital, under the Troop Commander's supervision, and even that, he had to fight his father and the king to do..."

"He did not. Not the king..."

"Do you think I care if Thranduil tastes a bit of grief? No, I do not care at all if he does. This forest will be better off without him and however I can help rid the forest of him, I will." He stood straight, chin up. "You took my sword and you have stayed between it and me throughout this conversation. King's Guard, arrest me for treason if that is what you intend to do. I do not deny my part in it and I will not resist."

"If I intended to arrest my son, Manadhien would be imprisoned in the king's stronghold right now. Instead she in in that village, probably plotting my death." He followed Glilavan into the sitting room and grasped him by both shoulders. "You obviously grieve the losses of our family. Do you want to grieve another? Do you want to see me killed, ion nin?"

"Of course not, adar. I have done everything I could to keep you safe."

"Has Manadhien threatened my life to coerce you?" Tulus asked.

"No!" Glilavan responded forcefully. "I have always been loyal to her. She overlooked your betrayals for my sake. She will continue to do so unless you have said or done something stupid in her village."

"Glilavan, I do not want you to associate with her, even if it means my life. I would give my life in an instant if doing so would wrest you from her grasp. No matter what Thranduil has done in your mind, either to you or to this forest, you have no right to plot his death. Killing another Elf goes against the laws of Eldar and the Valar. It is wrong and nothing justifies it. Nor will killing Thranduil bring back your naneth or brothers or sister. If you grieve for them, go to Belfalas and take a ship. You would likely be reunited with them there. They went to Mandos a very long time ago."

Glilavan shook his head. "I am not leaving you or this forest, adar. I will not allow Thranduil to destroy it."

"And I cannot allow you to destroy him. I am a member of the King's Guard and sworn to protect him. I am the head of my household and bound to preserve the honor of my family. Most importantly, I am your father and I am determined to prevent you from destroying yourself."

"Then we are at a standoff, it seems," Glilavan replied.

"One I will find a way to overcome," Tulus whispered. But he could not even begin to imagine how. This situation was far worse than he had imagined. "But be aware of this," he continued in a stronger voice. "I intend to recommend to Thranduil that the reports that you or someone has been stealing and sending south be better secured. And I intend to recommend the paths south be watched. I will do whatever I can to interfere with Manadhien's attempts to bring harm to Thranduil. Take care that you are not caught―and the best way to do that, is to do nothing to be caught at."

Glilavan only scowled.

* * *

"Tulus!" Thranduil exclaimed as the guard at the office door closed it quietly. "I did not realize you had returned already." He acknowledged Tulus's bow with a nod of his head and gestured for him to sit at the table.

Tulus glanced quickly around the room and stifled a sigh when he saw Legolas rising from the desk where he had been copying orders to also join the king at the table. He returned Legolas's bright smile weakly. He had hoped to avoid speaking to Legolas on this topic at all. He hoped Legolas would hear in council what Tulus reported and would not question him about it directly. Somehow Legolas was even harder to lie to than Thranduil. But lie was what he was here to do.

"You saw no sign of either Manadhien or Fuilin and Mauril, I take it?" Thranduil asked as Tulus stopped at the end of the table without taking the liberty of sitting.

Thranduil having said it for him made this easier. All he had to do now was agree, rather than say the words themselves. "That is right, my lord. I am very sorry," Tulus said quietly, unable to meet the king's gaze.

From the corner of his eye, Tulus saw Legolas's openly disappointed frown. Thranduil stood and strode over to stand before Tulus at the end of the table.

"Do not be so hard on yourself, Tulus," he said, grasping Tulus's shoulder. "We have searched for her for this entire Age. I did not have any true hope you would find her, but I appreciate your efforts just the same. At least we know that Dolgailon's village is safe from her. Did you see Moralfien? Had she returned yet? I know Dolgailon is worried about being absent from the village while she is also."

Tulus had to struggle not to cringe in shame at Thranduil's initial words. His final question was impossible to answer. If he admitted he had seen 'Moralfien,' when it came to light who she was, he would have no hope of playing ignorant. If he said he had not seen her, Dolgailon might travel to the village, and the Valar only knew what might become of him then, alone and at unawares with Manadhien. "I did see an elleth that I believe was the village leader, given her regular presence in the Hall, my lord," he finally answered. "The village is being managed, at any rate. I would not see any reason for Lord Dolgailon to need to return there."

"That is good," Thranduil answered. "I cannot spare him at the moment." He re-seated himself the table. "Go home and get some rest, Tulus. And thank you for your attempt. Let me know if you would like to try again later, but I will understand if you do not see the value in it." He smiled. "It may be just as well if you do not make another attempt. I know Legolas would prefer for you to remain here."

"That much is certain," Legolas replied in a dry tone.

Despite his guilt, Tulus also smiled. Obviously, Thranduil had assigned Belloth to guard Legolas in Tulus's absence. That was not surprising given how short they currently were on household guards. That thought made Tulus inwardly wince―and struggle not to do so openly. How many more deaths would there be due to his mistakes?

"My lord, before I leave, may I speak to you…that is, I would like to make a suggestion regarding security."

Thranduil nodded, again gesturing to a chair. "Sit. Of course I will listen to your suggestion. Shall we call for Conuion?"

Tulus shook his head. "No need to disturb him. If you agree to the suggestion, either of us could discuss it with him tomorrow." Thranduil nodded again, in agreement with that, so Tulus continued while sitting on the edge of the nearest chair. "While I was watching the village, I was thinking about the attack…and how it must have been planned. We have been assuming that Demil diverted the warriors and Manadhien coordinated the orc attack after Lord Galithil brought your orders to him. That would have given Manadhien that night only to bring together a very large number of orcs and position them." He looked at Thranduil, meeting his gaze for the first time since entering the room. "That would have been a very difficult task."

"Are you suggesting she had advanced knowledge of our travel plans somehow?" Thranduil asked, his posture rigid.

"I know for a fact that she has in the past, my lord. I saw, with my own eyes, reports that she used when contemplating her first attempt on the Queen's life. I assume she used them on the second, though, I did not directly take part in that plan. I think it is likely she used them this time. How else could she get that many orcs through the defenses of the Southern Patrol and that close to the village?"

"I assumed…we all assumed that when the Men attacked the Queen, the information they needed to evade the patrols came from spies she had living near the stronghold and watching the patrols," Thranduil responded. "If she is living in the south now, she could easily be watching the patrols there herself, and thus know how to avoid them."

"True," Tulus agreed. "But why plot an attack in the first place?" He turned to Legolas. "We had no word that the Queen would be accompanying her naneth to the village. You and I both expected she would, but we did not know it. How would Manadhien even know the King was coming, much less the Queen? I did not mention Lord Amglaur's intentions to anyone in the village. I am sure Galuauth did not. Did either you or Galithil?"

Legolas shook his head and his posture now matched his father's as he began to understand what Tulus was suggesting. "Neither of us spoke to anyone about Amglaur returning to Lothlorien and you are right that even we did not know adar was coming to the village. Galithil and I bet that he would, along with naneth, but we kept that speculation to ourselves."

"We travelled for three days, Tulus," Thranduil retorted. "More than enough time for her spies to inform Manadhien that I was traveling and who was traveling with me."

"Yes, my lord, but that information only bought her time to plan the attack if it came sooner, rather than later―when you were still close to the stronghold and had days of travel ahead of you. And that implies her spies are closer to the stronghold rather than confined to the south."

Thranduil sat back. "Well, Tulus, the idea that Dannenion and Dolwon are spies for her would not surprise me, but they were in the village, not the stronghold. And they left before anyone knew even Legolas and Galithil would be traveling. They could not be the source of this information."

"Yes, my lord, that is my point exactly," Tulus said. "She has more spies here than just them, assuming they are spies. I admit I believe they are, but I cannot prove it."

Thranduil remained silent for a long moment, obviously considering his next words carefully. Tulus knew what they would be.

"My lord," he said softly, again looking down. "I know you believe Glilavan to be the most likely spy aside from Dannenion and Dolwon."

"Is he, Tulus?" Thranduil asked.

Tulus drew a deep steadying breath. "I do not know," he answered while releasing the breath.

"Would you tell me if you did know?"

Tulus's next breath caught in his throat and he glanced quickly at the king. Lying to him had always been nearly impossible. "I confess, I do not know, my lord. He is my only remaining son. I do not want him to be involved in this." He braced himself and met Thranduil's gaze directly. "But I do know that I will never allow anyone, including Glilavan, to bring harm to Legolas or anyone else in your House, my lord."

Thranduil studied him, his gaze harsh…penetrating. With effort, Tulus did not look away.

"Legolas, leave," Thranduil finally commanded.

Legolas put his hands on the table, preparing to stand and comply with that order, while at the same time looking from Thranduil to Tulus with open concern. Then he hesitated. "I beg your pardon, my lord," he said quietly, without standing. "But I hold Tulus as a dear friend, not just my guard. I would like to hear the rest of this conversation. It will directly concern me, after all."

"Legolas," Tulus whispered, shaking his head.

Thranduil only glared at his son. "Very well," he conceded. Then he turned back to Tulus. "Hear my words, Tulus: I have entrusted you with what I hold most dear. Legolas clearly trusts you as well. If I ever find that my trust and his trust have been misplaced…well, since Legolas insists upon hearing this, I will only say that if you betray me, my wrath will be beyond your worst imagination. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my lord," Tulus responded. And he wished to add that Thranduil had no need to fear for Legolas, but that was not true and Tulus doubted his ability to deliver such a lie convincingly, so he remained silent.

"If Tulus intended to betray me, my lord, I would be dead rather than sitting here," Legolas said, again speaking softly, but resolutely. "Frankly, so would you be dead."

"I am fully aware of that, Legolas. I trust Tulus to defend you against any enemy save one. If Glilavan is part of Manadhien's conspiracy and if he is willing to kill, as she and Demil are, I cannot help but wonder what will happen when Tulus faces his own son with drawn weapons."

Tulus closed his eyes, unable to contain his reaction to that scenario. It was a nightmare he had never before today allowed himself to conceive of.

"You know I have my doubts about, Glilavan, my lord," Legolas said. That caused Tulus to look at him sharply. "I am sorry, Tulus," he said in response, "Glilavan has made some statements to me in the past that made me uncomfortable, at best. Since I learned of this plot, I admit that I have wondered what part he had in it. More than that, I admit that when I heard you were involved in it, I was certain Glilavan was too, even if that was never proven. I am sorry, but that is what I believe." He turned back to his father. "Until we can prove that, all we can do is continue to watch him. And regardless of what Glilavan's continuing part may be, it is his alone. Not Tulus's."

"Unless Tulus is concealing it," Thranduil replied, but he directed himself to Tulus.

"Tulus is speaking to you now, suggesting that Manadhien has conspirators in the capital. If Glilavan is one of those conspirators, calling your attention to them is a poor way to conceal Glilavan's involvement, if that is Tulus's intent."

Thranduil remained silent and Tulus struggled not to squirm in his chair while wondering what caused him more grief―knowing Glilavan was involved or hearing Legolas's loyal defense.

"I will grant you that, Legolas." He looked at Tulus. "Legolas is absolutely correct that you have been nothing but faithful to your oath to my House. As he said, I owe you both Legolas's life and my own. I do not doubt you, Tulus. And I hope my fears about Glilavan are proven incorrect."

"Not nearly as much as I hope that, my lord."

"Naturally," Thranduil said, and Tulus thought he saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes. Then his expression grew stern once again. "I agree with you that Manadhien likely has spies around the stronghold. I assume you have a recommendation for managing that?"

Tulus made an effort to focus on that question and his duty. "We cannot stop anyone from watching the patrols if we do not know who they are," Tulus said. "But I do recommend the patrol reports and the reports of the household guard, especially mine, Conuion, Colloth and Galudiron's, be kept in a more secure location." He looked back at Thranduil. "Where Dannenion and Dolwon cannot access them." He drew a deep breath. "And where Glilavan cannot, if there is any doubt concerning him."

Thranduil nodded. "I will ask Dolgailon to see to that."

"And, since we do not know who is carrying these messages south, I recommend we vary the messengers to the patrols in an effort to interfere with Manadhien's ability to communicate with her spies in the stronghold. If possible, it would be a good idea to set our own spies on the main paths south, to see if there are regular travelers along them that we should suspect are messengers."

"Also a good idea, Tulus," Thranduil said. "I will ask Conuion to coordinate that. Maybe some such messenger might lead us to her."

"Perhaps," Tulus responded. And he knew he had his work cut out for him before one did.

Adar-Father

Naneth-Mother

AN- This is the end of Journeys through Shadow and Flame. I hope you enjoyed it. The next story should be ready sometime late in September. Meantime, I might post another short story from Legolas and Galithil's earlier childhood in Steps Along the Way.


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